


Pacta sunt Servanda

by lolalliecatz



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angelic Lore, Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Contracts, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mirror Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Repressed Memories, This Grew A Plot, Top Keith (Voltron), Virginity, angel shiro, at least at first, demon keith, more characters added as plot demands, sex negative thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolalliecatz/pseuds/lolalliecatz
Summary: To put an end to heaven's civil war, the archangel Shiro had made a deal with the crossroads demon Keith - unimaginable quintessence in exchange for 100,000 human souls...and a night of quality time.Despite never having experienced human passion before...it was time to pay up.(Based on Lightningstrikes-art's supernatural AU | Part 3 added!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Lightningstrikes-art's initial spn!AU comic [here](http://lightningstrikes-art.tumblr.com/post/177697866879/i-can-be-your-angleor-yuor-devil-read-left-to)! And thank you to Sa and [Michelle](http://pining-sheith.tumblr.com/) for coming up with such a great AU! Shiro and Keith's personalities have been based largely on that comic.
> 
> There are multiple references to lore from the show, which I have explained in the endnotes just in case anyone needs a refresher or doesn't know!
> 
> Title is latin, meaning 'agreements must be kept.'

Angels and demons everywhere knew the fierce reputation of God’s archangels.  They were His bravest and deadliest warriors, both skilled and ruthless in carrying out His judgment.  Leaders who commanded garrisons of their own, but still obeyed their lord Father with frightening efficiency…when He was around, anyway. 

After all, archangels _were_ heaven’s most terrifying weapons.

So why did Shiro feel more uneasy now – facing the front of the door to a motel room in the middle of nowhere in particular – than he ever had before one of his great battles?  His vessel’s muscles were stiff and uncomfortable, and he had butterflies in his stomach…as the human saying went.

He never really understood that phrase…if butterflies were ever to fly into the digestive tract of a human body, they would be disintegrated just as if they were any other food.  They would not cause any sort of physical sensation – they would just die.

Shiro shook his head – his mind was just trying to distract itself from the task at hand.  He glanced over at the red sportscar parked in the nearby space, though its presence wasn’t needed to indicate what Shiro already knew – that the demon he was here to see was right beyond that door.  Briefly, Shiro wondered why any demon would even choose to _own_ a car.  They could teleport or return to their smoke form and traverse the world much faster than they would using the human mode of teleportation.  It didn’t make sense.  Plus, they were confining and small; why choose that over the open air?

Again, he realized that he was delaying; why hadn’t his companion – for lack of a better term – come outside to coax him in?  Surely, he knew Shiro was standing right outside…most likely he was laughing to himself at how long it was taking the fierce “Archangel of the Sky” to come up with the courage to face a lowly crossroads demon.  Shiro could snap his fingers and smite practically any demon with little to no effort, so having to turn to one for _help_ was not something he was particularly proud of.

But, no matter the cost…he had to win this war.  He _had_ to restore heaven to order.

With renewed resolve, Shiro opened the door, stepping inside without so much as a knock. 

“Hey there, Feathers.  Took you long enough.  You get lost from the parking lot to the door or something?”

Keith was sitting backwards on what looked to be an old and uncomfortable chair.  One of his arms was propped up on the top rail of the backrest so that he could lean his chin in his hand.  In the other hand was a cigarette, burning and leaving a trail of ashy smoke wherever he moved it.  Keith had positioned the chair square in the middle of the room, right in front of the bed, which Shiro glanced at for a split second.  Regardless of the anxiety coursing through his essence, he stood tall, a stoic expression characterizing his vessel’s features.

He couldn’t – he _wouldn’t_ – show weakness in front of this creature.

Shiro chose to not answer Keith’s inquiry.

“Oh come _on_ , Angelcakes, there’s no need to be like that,” Keith said, swinging one of his legs around so that he could stand.  Shiro really hated all the nicknames (and Keith unfortunately had so many of them), especially since they were always said in such a mockingly sweet tone.  But voicing his irritation would just spur Keith to come up with more, because that’s just how he was.  Always wanting his attention for some reason, even if it was annoyance.

Keith walked over to the nearby desk, putting out the nub of the cigarette on the wood after once last deep inhale.  When he breathed out, he watched the smoke rise until it disappeared, leaving nothing but its faint scent behind. 

“Though I must say I am _hurt_ , you know.  You show up late _and_ …”  Keith paused mid-sentence for the time it took him to stroll over to Shiro.  His fingers momentarily danced along Shiro’s chest, before he snatched the blade that Shiro had hidden inside his overcoat.  “You brought your angel blade – the literal one, not just the one in your pants.”  Keith made a chastising noise, feigning a look of hurt and disappointment.

“It’s not for you.  I don’t travel without it.  Besides…I’d like to be prepared if we are…interrupted.”  Shiro’s voice became slightly quieter at the end of his sentence; while he was _good_ at killing, having to do battle with his heavenly brothers and sisters was taking its toll on him.  With that blade, he had already spilt so much angelic grace, and deep down it sickened him.  But he would, without hesitation, end any of them if they somehow caught sight of the sins he was about to commit, even if it was all for restoring heaven to order.

Keith laughed, setting the weapon down on the desk.  “You know, for an archangel you can be real dense.”  From his jacket pocket he pulled out a spray can, brushing past Shiro to head towards the door.  He crafted a few symbols which were instantly recognizable to Shiro – Enochian warding sigils.  To keep this place hidden from both angels and demons…and to trap a particular angel inside.

Shiro stared at that one.  Keith noticed and smiled, pointing to it. 

“This one’s for you, Shiro.”  He tossed the can to the side nonchalantly.  When Shiro’s stare hardened, Keith put his hands up.  “Now, now, don’t give me that _look_.  Just making sure you won’t get cold feet on me.”

“I won’t.  I’m here, aren’t I?  I came of my own-”

He paused, and felt a pang of what could only be guilt.  Lost in his own head for a moment, he didn’t notice Keith invade his space again until the demon’s hands were on his hips, strangely gentle. 

“Free will?”

Shiro’s gaze caught Keith’s – something in those red eyes was suddenly different.  Softer, maybe…sympathetic?  No, impossible.  Demons lost all sense of humanity upon their creation.  Shiro knew he was just imagining things.  As lonely as it could be being the leader of an army engaged in a brutal civil war with family…he could not look for comfort in _Keith_. 

He turned away, out of Keith’s hold.

“Yeah, you guys weren’t so big on that whole ‘freedom’ concept, were you?  Strange how things instantly change once _Daddy_ isn’t around.”

To stop himself from punching Keith through the nearby wall, Shiro closed his hands into tight fists.  However, he did not stop himself from looking back at Keith furiously, his eyes glowing a bright blue-white as he growled.

“Do _not_ speak of Him.”  His voice suddenly seemed to echo throughout the room, even as low in tone and volume as it had become.  The lights overhead flickered on and off, on and off.  “ _Ever_.”

Rare were the times when anything intimidated Keith, but right now, he couldn’t help but take a small step back.  Annoying Shiro was one thing.  _Angering_ him was another thing entirely.

“Fine, Angelface, I’ll yield to that.  You can turn off the lights now.”  The subject of God and His disappearance (or abandonment, depending on which angel you spoke to) was a touchy one, to put things lightly.  Shiro did not want to think about it right now.  Not here.  Not with Keith.  “Besides…you’re ruining the _mood_ ,” Keith added. 

Shiro exhaled, allowing the righteous fury that had built up within him to settle down, and his eyes returned to his vessel’s original dark color. 

“Very well.  Let’s…get this over with.”  Shiro had turned so that he was not facing Keith, as he felt a deep heat rise within his cheeks – a physical reaction the human body had to a multitude of different emotions.  In this case?  Embarrassment.

In the moment, Shiro couldn’t help but wish that he did not need to be confined to this vessel – his true form was grand, with the ability to dwarf humanity’s tallest structures, and it certainly did not react in such ways.  Angels were not traditionally meant to emote so much, so their true forms did not really change when they cycled through various thoughts and feelings.  And if one of Shiro’s real four faces _did_ react for some reason?  Well he always could just turn and use a different one.  Or he could drape his wings over himself, allowing the feathers’ dark shades of black and purple to veil him.

But within this vessel he was on display, subject to all the strangeness that encompassed human physiology.  And although his wings _were_ present, they were invisible right now.  They would do no good as a shield.

He allowed his overcoat to drop off his shoulders, though caught it before it hit the floor, instead choosing to drape it neatly over the back of the nearby chair.  The suit jacket was next, quickly joining the coat on the old piece of furniture.  The faster he got out of these, the faster this shameful act could be finished…

“Woah there Hot Wings,” Keith said, appearing in front of Shiro (he would teleport for five steps but took a car to get here?) and causing the angel to pause the unbuttoning of his waistcoat.  Shiro’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly in confusion.  Wasn’t this what Keith wanted when he demanded a ‘night of quality time’ with him as part of their contract?

Keith couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Shiro’s face closely for any changes in his reactions.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

Shiro hesitated. 

“This…I know how human biology works.  Wearing these will just…get in the way.”

Keith blinked a few times, as if he was trying to process Shiro’s statement.

And then…laughter.  Not sinister or even mocking.  It was as if Shiro had just told one of the funniest jokes (which was impossible right now – the funniest jokes were always in Enochian, which he figured Keith could not understand) that Keith had ever heard. 

There was that heat again – rising in his cheeks like a blazing and uncontrollable flame.  Only now, frustration mixed with embarrassment to create cocktail of emotion that Shiro did not know exactly what to do with.

“What is so _funny_?”

Keith wiped at one of his eyes.

“You, Feathers.  You angels know so damn much and yet have experienced so _little_.  You watch humans like they’re on the nature channel.  In this little box, doing things that you would not dare to dream of replicating under normal circumstances.”  Keith’s tone was as if he was speaking to a naïve child.  “You might _think_ you know, Shiro, but you don’t.  Not really.  Not _yet_.”  He reached his hand up to caress Shiro’s cheek, and Shiro could not deny to himself how refreshingly cool it felt on his skin. 

“You’re too pure.” 

There it was again.  That softness in those red eyes – uncanny and startling, and Shiro felt uncomfortable under their stare.  Uncomfortable because of how different it was.  And because of how dangerously easy it could be to fall into the trap they laid.

Luckily, it did not last.  Keith replaced his expression in favor of that delightfully wicked smile which Shiro was so familiar with.

“Corrupting such purity has been a fantasy of mine since I first laid _eyes_ on you, Shiro.  Do you really think I would allow either one of us to rush through this, like you were some common whore?”

With his free hand, Keith grabbed the collar of Shiro’s shirt and pulled him down in a forceful open-mouthed kiss.  The startled noise that came from Shiro truly was unbefitting an archangel of the Lord, and he felt the hand that was on his cheek wrap around his head to grab a fistful of white hair.  Despite the rough treatment, pain or discomfort were not things that flowed through Shiro’s vessel.  Instead, he shivered.  Strange, since his skin still felt warm…

Just as Shiro was about to experiment with moving his tongue against Keith’s – finding that although the demon tasted of ash and smoke, it was not at all unpleasant – Keith pulled back, though he did not release his grip.  Shiro’s eyes were wide and showed a layer of vulnerability that he had initially wanted to keep hidden. 

Truly _innocent_.

“No.  I wouldn’t do that to _you_ , Feathers.  Tonight, you’re _my_ angel, and I want to make sure both of us enjoy this.” 

Shiro wanted to object to the idea that any demon _owned_ him, but his words lost their voice as soon as Keith’s tongue found his neck, moving up towards his ear.  Once he felt teeth nipping at the lobe, Shiro had to bite down on his lip, lest he allow something like a moan to escape him.  Truthfully, the idea of enjoying anything Keith was doing _frightened_ him; it would mean that he was not worthy of his rank and title.  Succumbing to such a carnal and human desire to a _demon_?  It was a major transgression.  The act itself was sinful enough, but actually enjoying it was a line Shiro did not want to cross.

Unfortunately, given how his vessel tensed up as Keith’s mouth continued to work his ear…Shiro knew that would be an incredibly difficult task.

“Oh come _on_ , Angelcakes…you’re not _seriously_ going to try to stop yourself from feeling _good_ , are you?”  The question was rhetorical, Shiro knew, and so he chose to say nothing in response.  Keith let loose a throaty chuckle, so close to Shiro’s ear that he could feel the sound’s vibrations travel through him, causing his vessel’s skin to break out into small goosebumps.  “I’ll just have to break down that wall for you, won’t I,” Keith whispered, planting one more kiss on Shiro’s neck, light and playful and already torturous.    

Against his better judgment – and wondering if Keith would say the night “didn’t count” if Shiro did not at least play along – Shiro loosely wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist.  Not really enough to pull Keith closer to him, but Keith smiled nonetheless.  It was terrible how nice Keith’s body felt in his hold – Shiro found himself wondering what Keith might have been like when he was still human.  Before hell tortured his soul into this twisted creature.  Had he still smelled of tobacco and smoke?  What color were his eyes?  Was did his original body even _look_ like?  Did he still take pleasure in making people visibly uncomfortable with nicknames and innuendos? 

“Hey, Feathers,” Keith said, his voice snapping Shiro out of his thoughts and back into the present.  Shiro’s eyes refocused on Keith, who was now leaning up with both of his arms around Shiro’s neck, their noses practically touching.  “Ah, there you are.  It’s good to have you back.  Try to stay _here,_ Shiro.  It won’t count otherwise.”  

Shiro’s eyes flickered to the side, and he knew his vessel’s face had to be a bright red by now.  “…Apologies.”

Keith laughed – _giggled_ was the word that came to mind, but it felt strange applying that to a demon – and kissed the bridge of Shiro’s nose, right on the scar.  Again, there was a tenderness there that Shiro did not want to exist; it made it seem like Keith even _cared_ , which Shiro knew a demon could never truly do. 

“For a big badass archangel, you can be so damned adorable,” Keith said, catching Shiro’s lips before a protest could leave them.  Keith moved his arms so that he could unbutton Shiro’s waistcoat, purposely moving slower than Shiro would have liked.  Their tongues found each other – the kiss was sloppy and Shiro vaguely wondered if all kisses were like this.  But feeling Keith’s lips move with his, having his tongue in his mouth…it made Shiro’s clothes begin to feel uncomfortable.  Like he was confined to a small cage within their woven fabrics and he needed to escape.

Luckily, Keith had finished with his waistcoat, pulling it from Shiro’s shoulders so that it slid off and onto the floor.  Shiro broke the kiss to look down at it, confusing Keith until Shiro’s eyes moved over to the chair, where his overcoat and suit jacket hung immaculately over the back.

“Seriously?”

“I would prefer it.”

Keith rolled his eyes.  “You get blood on these _constantly_ and yet you can’t handle them being on the floor of a motel room?”  Despite his question, he knelt down to grab the fallen article of clothing.  Before standing again, he told Shiro to allow him to take off his shoes, and Shiro complied.  Keith folded the waistcoat and placed it over Shiro’s shoes, which he then put on the seat of the chair.  He made sure to show Shiro how _careful_ he was being with it all, just as a way to mock the angel’s strange idiosyncrasies.

Seeing an archangel _pout_ was a marvelous sight indeed.

“Now, when you take _my_ shit off, I want you to fucking throw them wherever,” Keith said, teasingly.  He moved to stand near Shiro again, waiting. 

Shiro sighed and took a gentle hold of the lapels of Keith’s jacket.  It was a black leather, smooth under his fingers and cool to the touch.  Admittedly it was a nice look for Keith…

Shiro got it off of Keith quickly as soon as that thought crossed his mind.  And, as requested, he tossed the jacket to the side and resisted the urge to follow it with his eyes to see where it would land.  Keith must have found that exciting, since he grabbed Shiro’s tie and once again forcefully pulled him down so that their lips crushed together.  For two humans, it probably would have hurt somewhat – the smashing of teeth and lips and tongues was rough…but the angel and demon registered no pain, and Shiro even was unable to stop himself from moaning softly when Keith bit down hard on his lower lip.  It would have been enough to split skin and bruise a human, but Shiro’s grace repaired the vessel’s wound before it could even break out.

Keith’s fingers expertly undid Shiro’s tie and unbuttoned the shirt, and Shiro noticed that Keith was moving quicker than he had been earlier.  Did Keith’s clothes feel like a prison now too, he wondered?  Just as Keith was shoving the fabric open, Shiro found his hands on the hem of Keith’s t-shirt, pulling it up for him.  As if reading each other’s thoughts, they both stepped back slightly – Shiro to pull his arms through his sleeves, and Keith to drag his shirt over his head.  The clothes took their respective places on the chair and floor, before Keith was pressing into Shiro again.  The skin-to-skin contact felt overwhelmingly warm to Shiro.  Practically burning…but weirdly not undesirable.  

“Gotta say, we’re both lucky that your chosen vessel is so hot.”  Just as Shiro was about to discuss the overall temperature of this vessel and how it was normal when compared to others he had occupied in the past, Keith continued.  “And I don’t mean that in a literal way, since you angels can’t seem to tell the difference.  _Attractive_ is what I mean.”

Shiro couldn’t help but feel somewhat awkward.  “I don’t have any control over that.”  While he agreed that this vessel _was_ more aesthetically pleasing than the average human, Shiro knew it was a borrowed skin.  Sure, at times the lines between the vessel and the angel inside became blurry, and Shiro could feel this body as his own…but those were rare, and usually happened in the midst of an intense battle.  The only thing that was his own, technically, was the right arm – the vessel’s had been severed in combat, and Shiro had to take time (and an enormous amount of energy) to essentially craft a new one.  It was stronger than his left, pure white in color with the bright blue of grace visibly flowing through what appeared like human veins.   Unfortunately, having it alongside the foreign body made things feel strange at times.

Keith closed his eyes and smiled, a handwave indicating that he was brushing off Shiro’s concerned comment.  “I know, I know.  But for the record…”  Keith opened his eyes and stared into Shiro’s, tracing a finger along his jawline.  “…The angel beneath makes it even _better_.”

“How would you know?  You’ve never seen my true form.  Your eyes would burn out of its sockets immediately, at the very least.”  Shiro ignored the pang of lament that traveled through him when he imagined such a thing happening.  Keith would have to find a new vessel _if_ he survived the overwhelming light, which was…doubtful. 

“Oooh baby, you sure know how to get me in the mood with all this dirty talk,” Keith purred, despite Shiro knowing that – once again – the demon was mocking him.  “I just mean that since its _you_ , and not just the meatsuit,” Keith said, ignoring Shiro’s cringe at the use of that word, “what was already fucking _hot_ becomes just… _incredible_.”  He smiled, and it was frighteningly lovely.

“Stop.”

“Hmm?”

Shiro pulled away, turning so his back was to Keith.  “Why must you do this?”  The question was muttered under his breath, said in Enochian so that Keith would not be able to give him an answer he did not want to hear.  “Just…stop with the compliments, Keith,” Shiro said, switching back to English.  “We both know they’re just empty flattery, and I don’t appreciate the lies.”

He felt Keith’s chest press against his back, and then shuddered slightly under the feel of the light kisses Keith trailed across his neck and shoulders. 

“You think I’m lying?  That hurts, Shiro.”  Keith’s voice was soft, as if he _was_ upset, but Shiro knew how demons were.  It was in their nature to lie and do whatever they could to get exactly what they wanted.  And in this case, Keith wanted Shiro’s submission, physically _and_ emotionally.  “I wouldn’t lie – not about this.  Not to _you_.  I mean, what is there to lie about?”  Keith’s arms wrapped around Shiro so he could grope his chest.  “Just take the compliment, Feathers.”

Whatever response Shiro had in mind hitched in his throat when Keith pinched a nipple; the feeling caused an odd jolt of sensitive energy to travel directly to his groin.  His body pressed back against Keith’s against his own will, and Keith reacted with a low laugh and tweaked the other one harshly. 

Shiro’s eyes widened and he gasped, hating this weakness and how _good_ it felt.

He barely registered one of Keith’s hands moving down – the other was still prodding and pinching and teasing.  The button and zipper of his pants came undone under deft fingers, and Keith wasted no time to reach underneath the fabric to touch the hard erection that Shiro had been trying to – up until this moment – deny existed. 

It was too much.  Too much all at once and too new and too alarming. 

“Wait…wait, stop!”  Shiro wriggled free from Keith’s hold, both savoring the freedom and missing his touch.  Despite not _needing_ to breathe, he was panting, as a wave of panic crashed into him; the type of panic a young soldier gets right before their first _real_ battle. 

He dared not look back at Keith.  This night was going to happen, he knew, he just…

“…Give me a moment…”

“…You’re _scared_.” 

Shiro whirled around, wanting to be angry and intimidating, but his flushed face and widened eyes made that currently impossible.  Keith was staring at him; Shiro expected (and perhaps _wanted_ ) Keith to be smirking.  To laugh at him and make fun of his inexperience.  Instead, Keith was just…watching.  If not for his red eyes, he was so very… _human_. 

“I’m not-”

“You _are_.”

An archangel of God.  Fearless in war.  Leader of angelic armies.  Slayer of demons and monsters.  Champion of heaven. 

Afraid of sex.

It didn’t make any sense. 

Shiro looked away, ashamed.  What he was doing was a major sin, he already knew that, but…to be fearful in front of Keith was beyond disgraceful.  Why he was afraid he didn’t _really_ understand.  Was it the act itself, or what would come after?  Was it the unfamiliar physical sensations, or the emotions that threatened so much he knew as an angel?

He knew if he wanted the quintessence Keith promised him, he would need to do this.  He had agreed to it, making a deal he could not renege on.   

Only when he felt Keith take his hands into his own did Shiro look back.

“You angels are always so hard on yourselves,” Keith sighed.  Shiro wanted to say that Keith did not _understand_ ; this was different for angels than for demons and humans.  While some angels took part in these activities gleefully, they were considered lustful and blasphemous, having succumbed to a carnality that the divine were meant to surpass.  Demons were lustful by design, having come from humans and reveling in sin. 

This…was against Shiro’s nature.  And thus having it feel so _good_ already – to the point where Shiro could understand why his brothers and sisters would give in to it – was so terrifying at its core.    

But rather than try to explain anything, Shiro just kept his eyes locked on his hands, held in Keith’s like they were fragile and precious. 

“I know you love humanity, Shiro.  So why does something that humans do so naturally frighten you so much?”

The question was genuine.  Not meant to point out hypocrisy or trivialize.

“Angels…we aren’t meant…”

“Ah, that word.”  When Shiro tilted his head to signal his confusion, Keith chuckled.  “This isn’t what you guys are meant to do.  You don’t get that halo and wings from such _sacrilegious_ acts.”  Keith bent down a bit, to catch Shiro’s gaze.  “Don’t really understand why you guys hate it so much when it can be fucking _amazing_.”

“I don’t _hate-_ ”

“Also…since when have you decided to revert back to that programming in your head?  Here I thought you guys had decided to embrace the whole free will thing that humans enjoy so much.”

Shiro said nothing, just reflecting on Keith’s words, so the demon continued.

“Always thinking about what you _should_ do.  Always about what you’re _allowed_ to do.  In most of your brethren, I find it pathetic,” Keith said.  “In you…it just makes me sad.”

“Keith…”  Shiro’s voice was soft.  The way Keith was speaking…it was impossible to not take comfort in it.  Even if that comfort was a fabrication meant to trap him. 

“So, Shiro.  I’ll ask you…”  Keith’s eyes were intense and serious in a way that Shiro rarely if ever saw.  “Throwing the rulebook out the window, not thinking of what everyone else says you need to do…what do _you_ want?”

Shiro couldn’t help himself anymore.  He submitted.

Surging forward, Shiro caught Keith’s lips hungrily, bringing his arms tight around Keith to hug him close.  Keith decided to jump up, hooking both of his legs around Shiro’s waist so that the angel would be holding him off the ground.  Keith was remarkably light, though Shiro wouldn’t be able to say whether or not that was because he was objectively low of weight or just because…most everything felt like nothing to an archangel’s strength. 

Shiro walked towards the bed, neither dropping Keith nor breaking their kiss.  Rather than wait for Shiro to set him down onto the mattress, Keith put his feet back on the floor and pulled away. 

“You good, Angelface?” 

Shiro knew that Keith was really asking if it was okay to move on, and nodded, trying to push back any thoughts of how odd it was for a demon to ask something like that in the first place.  Keith planted a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as his hands found the waistline of Shiro’s pants again.  Shiro couldn’t stop himself from tensing when Keith dropped down to his knees, pulling the trousers and underwear down along with him and leaving Shiro fully exposed.

While this body was not his true one, Shiro was beginning to feel those lines between his angelic essence and the vessel become blurred.  These physical reactions were because of _his_ feelings, and he couldn’t tell himself anymore that the longing ache he felt in his already leaking cock was _just_ because of human biology. 

“Sit,” Keith ordered, and Shiro found himself obeying.  He sat on the edge of the bed, stiff and anxious and unable to look at Keith or at himself.  That was…until he felt Keith’s warm breath between his legs.

When his eyes found Keith again, the demon was kneeling in front of him, holding Shiro’s cock close to his face and smiling as though he was in possession of some beautiful treasure.  He had taken his gloves off, but wasn’t moving his hand.  He was just holding.  And _watching_.

Without breaking eye contact, Keith then messily licked the shaft from base to head, before taking Shiro into his mouth.  Shiro felt the back of Keith’s throat and wondered if Keith would have been able to do this as a human who needed the ability to breathe air.  As soon as Keith began to move, all while swirling his tongue in exploratory patterns, Shiro’s hand flew to his mouth to cover it.  Despite the intention, he could not stop the moan, and he could _feel_ Keith’s satisfied laugh vibrate from inside him. 

Shiro bit down on one of his fingers, soon tasting blood and waiting for his grace to repair the self-inflicted wound.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lean back or lean forward, as sitting up straight had become difficult with Keith’s mouth moving as it was.  He settled for slightly forward, and even allowed his free hand – already shaking – to settle into Keith’s hair. 

Soft.  Shiro hadn’t expected it to feel so nice.

Vaguely, Shiro began to wonder about what it would be like to do this to Keith.  (Keith would likely make a joke about how he had finally brought an archangel to his knees.)  To have Keith watching him as he tasted the demon’s cock, at first hesitant and unsure of what he was doing.  But Keith would encourage him with those sweet lies he was so fond of, and Shiro would fall for them, soon finding himself wanting to make Keith moan, to hear his name pass through those lips.        

“Keith…”

When had his hand moved from covering his mouth?  It was supposed to stop things like that, and Shiro hated how triumphant Keith’s eyes looked.  But only for a moment, because Keith had decided to speed up, bobbing his head back and forth in a way that caused a strange pooling of… _something_ deep within him.  Without meaning to, Shiro moved his hips, though Keith didn’t even seem to notice the action. 

“Keith- I…something’s-”  Shiro couldn’t find the words.  It was as if he was teetering on an edge, his body begging to be pushed over…

But then, Keith stopped, and pulled back, releasing Shiro from his mouth and leaving the angel stranded on that metaphorical ledge, unable to jump off without assistance. 

“What-”

“Don’t worry, Feathers.  I’ll get you there.  Just not _yet_.” 

Keith stood and wiped at his mouth.  Shiro watched as Keith quickly rid himself of the remainder of his clothes, telling Shiro to move back onto the bed as he grabbed something from the beside table. 

Shiro – replaying millennia’s worth of knowledge of human sexual activities – maneuvered himself so that he would be on his stomach, facing away from Keith.

“Not like that,” Keith said, causing Shiro to look back at him with questioning eyes.  “Turn over, so I can see your lovely face.”

Shiro’s cheeks reheated as he readjusted his positioning, feeling exposed and vulnerable all over again as Keith spread his legs apart to place himself in between them.  He couldn’t watch Keith’s face – those red eyes were scanning over his entire form, eagerly taking in the sight of Shiro’s nakedness and arousal. 

“Heh, you’re so cute, Shiro.”  Keith leaned over to kiss Shiro’s lips, and Shiro tried to focus on them as soon as he felt one of Keith’s fingers – slick with some smooth and cool substance – prod at his ass, massaging the hole before gently pushing in.  It didn’t _hurt_ – something like this was not enough to hurt him – but it was an intrusion that made Shiro’s muscles lock up, shaking more visibly than he had been even before.  He felt so… _full_ suddenly, in a way that was arousing and strange all at once.

Keith told him to relax, though Shiro found himself unable to do so, especially as Keith’s finger pressed further, curling and moving in ways that had Shiro biting down hard on his lip once again as small pulses of pleasure traveled through him.  When Keith added a second, one of Shiro’s hands gripped tightly onto Keith’s shoulder, short nails digging into the skin.  He tried to stop himself from writhing as Keith alternated between pumping those fingers in and out and keeping them pressed deep inside while spreading them mercilessly. 

And then – Keith hit something.  Something that was intense and shocking, and it felt like warm intense electricity had surged through Shiro all the way down to his essence and grace.  His eyes were wide and confused – sure he knew the anatomy of the human body but…he didn’t know _this_.  Keith smirked and repeated his action, causing Shiro to gasp loudly, muscles beginning to twitch slightly.  How could he lose control of his vessel so quickly; it moved on its own, and Shiro was ashamed to soon find that those two fingers were no longer _enough_.  They were intruding and yet he could feel the fullness he initially experienced ebbing away, leaving this _need_ to have something else give him that feeling again.      

Shiro couldn’t even hear himself whimper Keith’s name that time, his internal thoughts and needs driving out his own voice.  But whatever he conveyed, Keith must have understood; he pulled out his fingers and gave Shiro one more kiss before leaning back, ignoring the soft noise of protest Shiro vocalized due to the unexpected emptiness.  Shiro barely reacted as Keith put his arms under his knees and hoisted his legs into the air, so that they would rest on top of his shoulders. 

“Look at me.”

Keith’s words cut through everything, and Shiro’s dark eyes flickered upwards to meet Keith’s red ones.  Again, he caught himself wondering what color they might have been when he was human…

Then Keith was pushing in – coated with that same cool substance which made the intrusion smooth and easier – and Shiro’s mouth fell open with a hitched gasp.  _There_ , that fullness he had wanted so badly…it was so much better and _more_ than before, and he felt himself grip onto the sheets beneath him, unable to do much else to expend any sort of energy. 

Keith did not stop until he was fully inside, smiling as he saw Shiro tremble and try to move – the position made it difficult, so he was reduced to just letting loose an unbecoming whine that was better than the most beautiful music that had ever graced Keith’s ears.

“I like you like this, Feathers.  _Much_ less uptight.”

Shiro would have replied with some sort of comeback if Keith hadn’t decided to move his hips back – the immediate loss of that sublime fullness almost reduced Shiro to begging, but Keith thrust forward again.  Shiro’s eyes rolled back as Keith established a rhythm, steady and hard but not fast.  All thoughts of Shiro’s internal conflict from earlier – about what this would mean as an angel, giving in to such pleasure – were buried underneath Keith’s momentum and the coursing of that amazing electrical-like current through Shiro’s entire being. 

His angelic arm fell in front of his face to shield his reactions as he became less and less able to control them, but apparently Keith did not appreciate that, since he almost completely pulled out and stopped as a punishment.  Shiro hated himself for whining and moving his hips in complaint, but he couldn’t stop himself, needing nothing but Keith to just continue what he had been doing. 

Growling, Keith lunged forward to grab Shiro’s wrist and pin it onto the bed.  In doing so, he also lifted Shiro’s backside somewhat off the mattress so that his weight now rested completely on his upper back and shoulders.  Shiro could feel the vessel’s hip and leg muscles straining, as the new position practically placed his knees by his ears, forcing a flexibility that this body probably did not normally have.  Keith’s face was close to his now, and Shiro could see a deep desire within those bright red eyes.

“I told you to look at me,” Keith snarled, apparently unhappy that he had to repeat himself.  Shiro did as he was told, making sure to not tear his gaze away from Keith’s face even as Keith thrust into him again, this time with a force that had Shiro loudly crying out an Enochian curse.  Using the hand not pinning Shiro’s arm down, Keith reached down to grasp Shiro’s cock and stroke it in time with his renewed movements.   

Keith was relentless now – fast and unyielding and powerful and Shiro again felt that intense electricity every time he pushed in and hit that spot inside.  Pooling within him, he felt that same _something_ as before, but it was so much more intense this time.  The ledge he was on was higher and he was both eager and afraid to fall off. 

“Keith-”

His voice was desperate and needy and Keith quickly caught his lips in a passionate kiss, spurring on that need to let _go_.  The light overhead began to flicker, though neither seemed to take notice of it.

When Keith broke away again to gasp Shiro’s name, he was met with glowing white-blue eyes, getting brighter as Shiro’s trembling became more intense and Keith’s hips more erratic.  They were not the same as before; before it had been Shiro’s anger which summoned his light and grace.  Now, it was involuntary, and _passion_ – rather than fury – was what had brought them here.  And whereas Keith had feared those eyes of righteous anger, he could not tear away from these; they were inviting him as a moth would be to a flame.  Even as the angelic light – something he should fear more than anything else – became searing and slightly painful to look at, Keith could not resist them.  The threat of Shiro accidentally smiting him in the throes of ecstasy was not enough to move him.

What a way to go if that was what happened.

Shiro began speaking in Enochian, looking confused and desperate all at once.  Keith did not need to understand him to know what Shiro was saying.

“Come for me Shiro-”

For some reason, Keith’s hushed and sweet voice was what tipped Shiro over.  He resisted the urge to shut his eyes tight as all of the pleasurable buildup within hit him in an incredible wave of release – he was sure Keith’s name spilled from his lips in a loud gasping moan, but he himself barely heard it.  His back arched as he climaxed, feeling something hot pour out from him and spill onto Keith’s hand and his stomach.  The light overhead blared so bright that it burst, but not before Keith caught a glimpse of shadowy wings suddenly splaying out underneath the archangel.

And Shiro’s entire body was still twitching as Keith drilled into him mercilessly; his mouth was hanging slightly open and Shiro did not even register that small shards of glass from the light had spilled onto them from overhead.  Keith’s head buried in Shiro’s neck, and when he finally released inside, he bit down hard enough to draw delicious blood.  Shiro would not repair that right away, still distracted and feeling an easy numbness begin to settle in. 

Keith nuzzled Shiro’s face gently – lovingly, almost – to try and get his attention again.  Shiro may have heard him softly say something akin to ‘my Shiro,’ but he couldn’t trust that he had heard correctly.  When Shiro’s eyes refocused, slowly losing that bright blue-white glow, Keith smiled and kissed him deeply.  He could still feel Shiro quivering against him, even as his body slowly relaxed into the bed.  Keith pulled out, earning him one more beautiful moan from Shiro, and he resisted the almost overwhelming urge to rest his head on Shiro’s chest.  Instead, he rolled over next to him, taking a moment to come down from his own orgasm, still savoring the taste of Shiro’s blood on his tongue.

After a few moments of silence, Keith turned his head so he could watch Shiro’s face.  He really was stunning to behold…

“Why do you want control over heaven anyway?”  Shiro always seemed to be a reluctant leader – he would play the part, and play it _well_ , but ultimately, Keith felt like Shiro had other desires.  Why throw them away to fill a roll thrust upon him?

Shiro did not look at him. 

“I told you.  It’s in chaos right now.”

Keith sat up, looking down at Shiro, who once again felt uncomfortable under that gaze and shifted slightly. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.  Anyone else could take over.  Why does it have to be _you_?” 

Shiro closed his eyes.  “It’s…complicated.”  That was all he wanted to say. 

His wall was back up, protecting his secrets and blocking Keith out once again. 

Keith was disappointed, but he did his best to return to some sort of normalcy as well.  “Well, Feathers, it must be if _you’re_ willing to sacrifice one-hundred thousand souls to get it.”  He stood, picking up his pants and putting them back on.  From the floor, he also picked up something else.  It looked like it was nothing, until the feather seemed to materialize in his hand.  Keith examined it – it was large and gorgeous; a mixture of deep purple and black with what looked like small stars aligned in intricate patterns. 

One of Shiro’s feathers.

“I’ll keep this.  As a memento.”  Keith put the feather behind his ear, slipping on his shoes and moving to grab the remainder of his clothes, but he did not put them on, instead choosing to just drape them over his arm.    

“You know…”  From the pocket of his jacket he pulled out a cigarette.  It was magically lit before he put it into his mouth, and he inhaled deeply.  It was as though he had a terrible craving he had only been able to satiate in that very moment.  “I was thinking.  I _might_ be able to cut you a discount on those souls.”

 _That_ got Shiro’s attention again.  Using his elbows, he propped himself up into a sitting position and did that narrow-eyed head tilt thing that Keith found so endearing.  “If you agree to give yourself over to me again sometime, I think I can cut the price down a little bit.  Just for you, Angelface.”

Shiro just stared, but clearly was contemplating an answer.  Keith shrugged, faking nonchalance despite his deep desperation to hear Shiro agree to his terms. 

“Think it over.  I mean, you’ve already done it once now, and you seemed to _thoroughly_ enjoy yourself.”  Keith smiled as he pointed upwards at the broken light.  Shiro’s cheeks reddened and he frowned.  He didn’t object or deny the truth of what Keith had said though, not when evidence existed all over the room and the bed.  He was sticky with it.

Keith made his way to the door, and Shiro watched him draw a line through the sigil which kept Shiro trapped inside the room. 

“You know how to find me, but don’t take too long, Feathers.”  Keith flashed him a grin before opening the door and stepping outside.

Shiro only leaned back onto the pillow when he heard Keith’s car start up and drive away.  Again, he found himself wondering what purpose a demon possibly could see in owning a car, but he knew that was just his mind again trying to distract him, this time from the new proposal that Keith had issued to him.

Already, Shiro knew his shameful answer. 

Even without the offer of a discount, he knew he would never be able to resist the taste of Keith’s lips ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I am only slightly ashamed of what I have done.
> 
> EDIT: Ribit666 on twitter was super awesome and drew some amazing art for this fic [ here](https://twitter.com/ribbit666/status/1038201834626842632?s=19) and [here (nsfw in link)](https://twitter.com/ribbit666/status/1038430128173404161?s=19)!! Thank you so much again they are amazing!
> 
> Spn lore:  
> \- Demons were originally human souls, tortured in hell so terribly that they became corrupted  
> \- Enochian warding sigils are used to ward against angels/demons/etc; Enochian is the native language of angels  
> \- God is not in heaven; the angels are unable to find him  
> \- Grace is celestial energy within angels  
> \- Angels need vessels on Earth; their trueforms are overwhelming to most humans minus a chosen few


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend begged me to continue and I of course had to comply. Shiro returns to Keith for a second round.

Elevators – like all human transportation – were excruciatingly slow.

Shiro looked down at the piece of paper in his hand as he waited inside the small ascending metal box.  Although he was examining the written text as though it held some special secret he needed to decipher, there were only four numbers, scribed below the name and address of the hotel: _4103_.  Forty-first floor.  Room three.

Part of Shiro was utterly ashamed at how quickly he had contacted Keith again after their first night together.  He had tried to tell himself it was solely due to the prospect of a discount on those souls he had to pay, because that was better than the obvious truth: that he had succumbed to the sin of lust thanks to a very crafty and persistent demon.  A demon he – for some reason – could not bring himself to hate.  But…the images of Keith watching him, the phantom touches Shiro still found himself shivering from, the memory of Keith’s weight and his mouth and his voice moaning Shiro’s name as he was inside…they were plagues on his mind.  On his mind _and_ his body – Shiro had to escape a few meetings with his allied brothers and sisters due to his vessel’s response to such arousing recollections.   

Unfortunately, he never knew what to do once he made his retreat.  The aching _need_ he felt was borderline painful and whenever the temptation to explore those feelings entered his thoughts, a layer of guilt and fear washed it away…leaving him stranded and aching for that which he could not give to himself.  Perhaps those feelings were punishment for what he had done.  Not just for allowing Keith inside him, but also for his willingness to sacrifice so many souls for the sake of victory.

But he _needed_ to win.  This war in heaven had to end.

Despite telling himself over and over that his actions were necessary for peace and the preservation of angelic lives, Shiro still felt a queasy uneasiness and an occasional throbbing in his head.  Would he fall because of what he was doing?  The very notion gripped him with terror – his closest brother Kuron had fallen and the image had burned hot into Shiro’s mind.  He never wanted to experience such a thing – there was nothing better than being an angel.

Unfortunately, he had to weigh his personal fear of falling against the safety of heaven and its angels.  And now, added into the equation was that painful _need_ that he could only go to Keith to satisfy.  

He made his choice.  Freely.

What if he had chosen wrong?

Shiro barely registered the soft ‘ding’ of the elevator when it had finally reached its destination.  He decided to put aside his inner conundrum and find the room Keith had directed him to go to.  Shiro found the upgrade in venue strange – unlike their previous setting, this hotel was upscale and elegant.  It would have been extremely expensive for a human and seemed a bit out of Keith’s character.  The room was apparently already warded, hence why Shiro could not teleport directly there; Keith would need to temporarily break the sigil to allow him to enter. 

When he reached the door with the _4103_ golden numbers, Shiro hesitated.  The images of their last rendezvous began flashing in his mind, and he cursed how warm his body began to already feel.  Showing up with his desperation in plain sight would please Keith to no end and would result in a lot of teasing. 

Would that be so bad…?

Shiro shook his head – Keith’s cocky smirk was not something he wanted his body to react positively to.  He pulled on his collar a bit, only for some brief respite; he had to resist the urge to loosen his tie.  With an anxious gulp, he brought his hand up to knock on the door… but hesitated for a moment.  All his desires and fears began to battle each other again – the memories of Keith against those of the falling Kuron against those of his dead angelic brothers and sisters…

“You can’t _possibly_ be so nervous again, Feathers!”

Keith’s voice spoke loudly from the other side of the door, with a tone that strangely mixed amusement with exasperation.  Shiro felt his cheeks become hot from the embarrassment that surged through him, and he cleared his throat.  He knocked, figuring that was what Keith had wanted, and was almost surprised at how quickly Keith flung the door open. 

“Who said I was nervous?”  Shiro wanted to appear a bit angered at the accusation (despite its veracity), but it was difficult when Keith was standing there with no shirt and low-rise pants on, a towel flung over his shoulder casually.  He did not have the willpower to stop his eyes from traveling, so before Keith could catch him ogling, Shiro pushed past him and strode into the room.  The sound of the door closing registered in his mind.  No turning back, even if he had somehow been able to convince himself he wanted to.

After dropping his angel blade on the nearest table, he stopped before the bed – it was larger and more…plush than the previous one he had laid in and was adorned in colors of red and white.  The room itself had a romantic feel; most likely it was meant for honeymooning couples – there was a couch on the far wall near the window and a table with a bottle of wine and two glasses.  (Did that come with the room, or did Keith order that special?)  A desk and chair were tucked into the corner, seemingly unused.

He turned to face away from the bed and was met with an image of himself.  Shiro tilted his head, watching his reflection mimic the action.  Huh…sort of a strange place to put a mirror, wasn’t it?  And one that extended the entire length of the wall? 

“Might wanna look up too, Angel.”

Shiro did, only to find his own face looking back at him once again.  The ceiling was covered in mirrored tiles.  What help would mirrors on the ceiling be in a hotel room?  Certainly they wouldn’t be of much use in preparing for one’s day or anything like that. 

Unless…

The picture of himself looking upwards while Keith was inside him popped into Shiro’s mind.  He must have had some sort of visual reaction – he could feel his vessel’s muscles tense up instantly – because Keith had chuckled and put his arms around Shiro’s waist.  So close already…Shiro did not pull away, but he remained stiff and awkward.

“That’s right.  I want _you_ to see how much you enjoy yourself, Shiro.”  Keith planted a small kiss on the back of Shiro’s neck, and just that little amount of contact was enough to elicit a soft gasp.  Shiro bit his lip, hoping Keith hadn’t noticed it, but unfortunately – as always – the demon was perceptive.  Keith let go of his waist and moved in front of him; Shiro could not bring himself to look at Keith’s smugly satisfied grin. 

“My, my, Feathers…”  Keith put himself in the path of Shiro’s eyesight, no matter where Shiro tried to avert his gaze.  “ _Sensitive_ today, are we?” 

“It’s nothing.  Just a reaction.”  Shiro wanted to sound stern, but he wasn’t sure how he was coming across at the moment, what with his blushing face and already tight pants.  He shifted, uncomfortable with his predicament.  Keith, however, was still downright _giddy_ thanks to it.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about this,” Keith said in a singsong voice, his tone oozing with a thick layer of faux-sweetness.  “About _me_.”  Keith brought his hand to Shiro’s chest and leaned against the angel so that his mouth was close to Shiro’s neck.  “Tell me, what have you been picturing?”

Shiro’s shuddered, hating the fact that Keith’s voice spurred his body in ways he wished it would not.  “You’re…you’re being ridiculous.”  He wanted to remain stoic and passive, but knew he was failing.  It was not supposed to be like this.  His first night with Keith should have remained reluctant; he was never meant to _enjoy it_.  And he certainly was not meant to enjoy it so much that he would return to the arms of this demon to sin with him once again.

“Should I guess, then?”  Keith chuckled, allowing his hand to roam over Shiro’s chest lightly.  Even through layers of clothing, Shiro found the sensation to be both too much and too little.  He clenched his jaw, hoping to keep himself from giving anything away.  “Hmm, I’ll take your non-answer as a yes, Feathers.”

Keith made a soft humming sound, pretending as if he was giving thought to his answer.  “Did you imagine my mouth on your dick again?  Or…”  Keith purred, and when Shiro glanced at his face, his smile was almost sinister.  “Were you thinking about sucking _me_ off?  You on your knees, tasting me and making me come…gotta say, I like the image.”

“That’s…that’s not-”  Shiro wanted to deny everything Keith said, but he found himself unable to lie.  That exact scenario _had_ come up in his mind on multiple occasions, and he frustratingly was painfully aroused every single time.  It was humiliating and shameful. 

“You know, you _could_ have asked me to move this appointment up.  I would have been more than happy to rearrange my schedule if you needed me so badly.”

“I didn’t _need_ you, Keith,” Shiro said, sternly.  Unfortunately, as soon as the words came out of his mouth, Keith was roughly groping the front of his trousers.  Shiro’s mouth fell open slightly with a hitched sound; there was no denying that he was already half-hard, and he had to practically force his body into keeping still rather than rock into Keith’s hand.

“Don’t you?  Tell me when it was you last came, Shiro.  Did you cry out my name?”  Keith leaned up to softly bite Shiro’s ear, and so he did not see the confused look that suddenly characterized Shiro’s features.  “Your hand couldn’t possibly be as good as _me_.”

“What…do you mean?”

Keith stopped, and Shiro felt an awkwardness hanging in the air.  He waited, wondering what it was he said, before Keith released him.  He had one eyebrow raised as he studied Shiro’s face, who once again found he could not match Keith’s gaze.  Apparently, his question was enough to conjure up internal feelings of great chagrin, for reasons Shiro himself was unaware of. 

“Feathers…are you saying what I _think_ you’re saying?”  When Shiro’s expression did not change, Keith sighed and brought his hands together.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the tips of his fingers briefly touching his lips.  Then, he pointed his folded hands in Shiro’s direction.  “Have you been giving _yourself_ blue balls?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Shiro said, in a tone that obviously meant to convey to Keith that he ought to have already known that.  Keith sighed, and Shiro wasn’t sure if it was out of annoyance or pity.

“Oh Shiro…”  So, it was pity.  Shiro frowned, especially when Keith smiled.  There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that could only mean he had _plans_.  “You really are so innocent.  But don’t worry, because I will _never_ give up on you.”

Still confused, Shiro allowed Keith to take his hand and lead him to the bed.  Keith made him face the mirror before letting go, striding across the room to pull out the desk chair.  He dragged it over, positioning it between the bed and the mirrored wall, off-centered enough to not block Shiro’s view of his own reflection.  Then, Keith casually walked to the table, pouring himself a glass of wine.  He neither poured a second glass nor offered Shiro any (not that he would have wanted it), instead taking a small sip before sitting cross-legged in the chair.  He swirled the glass, eyeing Shiro with that playful knowing expression still plastered on his face. 

“…Are we not…?”  Shiro felt somewhat self-conscious.  Did Keith change his mind?  He shifted uncomfortably, trying and failing to hide his desperation. 

“Well, I was thinking,“ Keith said, pausing to take another swig of his drink, “last time really wasn’t very balanced, work-wise.  I mean, it makes sense since it was your first time and everything, but…now it’s your turn.”

“Come again?”  Shiro wasn’t sure if Keith was being purposely vague, or if his unfamiliarity with these sorts of scenarios just made it difficult to comprehend what Keith wanted from him. 

“Tell you what.”  Another sip.  “How about I issue you a little challenge?  One I’m sure the great Archangel Shiro could easily complete.”  Keith’s voice still was playful yet wicked, like he held a juicy piece of gossip that he was eager to unleash upon an unwitting victim.  “You need to make me hard…without touching me.” 

“What?”  Shiro’s face again burned bright.  “But…what am I supposed to do?”

“You’re a smart cookie,” Keith responded with a wink.  “You’ll figure something out.  And how about this…if you get stuck, I’ll give you a few hints.”

“I’m not a cookie,” Shiro grumbled, despite knowing full well that Keith no doubt would characterize his reaction as ‘cute.’  “I…wasn’t expecting this.  This is different from last time…”  That nervous energy he felt their first round whirled around and smacked him in the face again – at least if they had stuck to a script _like_ the original one, he would have had that familiarity to comfort him through the remainder of his doubts and insecurities.  But now he was back to being completely unaware of what it was he was expected to do.  Traditionally, angels were especially bad at improvisation.

Keith chuckled.  “You think human couples just repeat the same scene every time they have sex?  No, Angelcakes…couples need to keep things spicy.”  Shiro momentarily thought about objecting to the idea of him and Keith as a couple, but for some reason decided against it.  Keith continued, though his expression softened and his tone became a bit more serious…encouraging, in a weird way.  “Just do what feels good for _you_.  Seeing you like that is my favorite thing in the world.”

That look – like Shiro was a jewel that Keith coveted and adored and wanted to keep safe – it made Shiro’s chest tighten oddly, and his mind again warred with itself.  Why did Keith watch him like that?  What were his intentions?  Was he _genuine_?  Shiro kept telling himself again and again that there was no way a demon could be truthful but Keith’s face and his voice and his _words_ (when he was not playfully mocking) all conglomerated into a powerful weapon that wrestled with his preconceived notions. 

Shiro sighed, and mumbled a bit about his predicament in Enochian to make sure Keith would not understand him.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to have to find a book to translate.” 

“No such book exists,” Shiro said, matter-of-factly.  Keith was still staring at him with adoring eyes and a smile, and Shiro had to turn a bit to avert his gaze when he removed his coat.  Though, as he folded it neatly, Keith whistled, quickly earning him a sharp annoyed glare. 

“What?  You know I just get all hot and bothered watching you make sure your clothes are folded and placed in a proper spot.”

“While the whole notion of sarcasm still sometimes eludes me, I _am_ learning,” Shiro shot back.  Keith grinned wide enough to show his teeth, and Shiro did not like the fact that seeing Keith happy like that was…nice.  He seemed more human than demon, as if the tortures of Hell had not _completely_ torn apart his soul and he still harbored some semblance of who he may have once been. 

Such a thought was dangerous.

“How about, just this once, you forgo the whole folding thing?”

“I thought you said to do what feels good for me?”  Shiro couldn’t help but smirk a bit – the question was not said in aggravation but…was that teasing?  It seemed to surprise Keith too, who blinked as if it was some brand-new phenomenon before laughing and leaning back in his chair. 

“Touché, Feathers.”

Shiro paused.  “Though…I guess if it would be more… _exciting_ …”  He was not exactly mumbling, but also not speaking clearly.  He still was well-aware of the task at hand, and if he wanted Keith to touch him like last time, he would need to appeal to Keith’s _desires_.  Not that…he knew how to do that, hence the semi-mumbling and the nervous blush. 

“You overthink things, you know,” Keith was still smiling, and if Shiro took an educated guess, he would believe that the demon found him endearing.  Shiro looked at the folded coat in his arms and decided to just…plop it down onto the floor. 

“So many _boundaries_ broken for you lately.  I am _into_ it,” Keith said, even as Shiro felt a bit silly.  “But are you just going to keep teasing me like this?  As much as I love the suit, I prefer what’s underneath.”

“Patience is a virtue, Keith,” Shiro said, sounding almost as if he was about to give a lecture.  “And…”  He slid his suit jacket off slowly, to emphasize the point he was making.  “Patience yields _focus_.  I…don’t want your attention to wander.”   

“Wander off _you_ , Shiro?  _Never_.”

The jacket hit the floor and Shiro resisted the urge to pick it up and fold it.  It felt awkward, just stripping off his clothes while Keith watched.  But…it was not _unpleasantly_ awkward.  Actually, after Shiro undid his waistcoat and allowed it to also fall, it seemed to spark a bit of excitement in him.  Sure, he still had no idea what he was doing but…

He pushed the fears of sin and falling from his mind.  Later, he could repent and think about those.  His need was too great right now.  

Shiro turned around so that his back was facing Keith while he unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his tie.  He remembered Keith telling him how much he enjoyed this vessel’s build, so decided to move his arms in such a way that his back muscles flexed while he pulled himself free of the article of clothing.  Curious, he peered over his shoulder; Keith was staring.  Hungrily.  As if he was a starving wild animal and Shiro was wounded prey ripe for devouring. 

Maybe he would get lucky and Keith would just give up this little game of his. 

Unfortunately, Keith did not move a muscle; _of course_ , thought Shiro.  Keith was far too stubborn to just yield already and give him what he wanted. 

Still facing away from Keith, Shiro realized his hands had begun to shake a little as he unbuckled his belt.  After pulling it through the loops and dropping it, he took a deep breath, deciding it would be better to just finish this little dance Keith had forced him into.  Quickly, he had unbuttoned his pants and bent a little at the waist to pull them and his underwear both down in one fell swoop.  It felt nice to be free of the fabric, but he found himself stiff again, even as he straightened.  He refused to look down at himself; he was still painfully aroused but he did not need to _see_ that. 

Keith, as usual, had different plans.

“Damn Feathers.”  Keith’s appreciative tone went straight to Shiro’s cock, and Shiro resisted the temptation to beg Keith to let this go.  “Why are you hiding?  Show me.”

Another deep breath, and Shiro closed his eyes.  He turned around, holding onto both of his elbows awkwardly, not really sure what he ought to be doing with his arms. 

“What’s the point of getting a room with all these mirrors if you won’t use them, Angelface?”  Keith’s tone was still surprisingly gentle; he was not mocking Shiro for his inhibition.  Shiro was not sure if he liked or hated that – Keith continued to surprise him in ways demons were not meant to.  “I want you to see how beautiful you are.”

“I still don’t think you’d find me such if you had the ability to see my true form,” Shiro said, unable to stop himself from flushing due to Keith’s flattery. 

“You say that, but I know I’d still think the same.”

When Shiro opened his eyes, it was not to look at himself, but at Keith.  The way Keith had wistfully said that sentence…as if he knew something…what was he thinking about?  His head tilted and he was about to open his mouth to ask a question, but Keith pointed back at the mirror and Shiro’s eyes followed on their own.  Before he knew it, he was looking at his own naked reflection. 

Shiro really hated that his wings were not visible while he was in this vessel – they were quite large, so it would have been so easy to veil himself under them, allowing the opaque colors of black and deep purple to shield him from his shame.  Instead, he scanned himself up and down, trying to not fixate on the erection that showcased his need so damned loudly. 

“See, what did I tell you?   _Beautiful_.”

“Keith…”

Shiro’s voice was soft; he wanted to tell Keith to stop flattering him.  To stop with these niceties and borderline _romantic_ lines.  They were unnerving, since Shiro felt he could lose himself in them.  _To corrupt_ – that was what Keith wanted in the end, wasn’t it?  He had said it last time; he wanted to corrupt Shiro.  While he had succeeded in getting Shiro to submit to lust, he would not get him to fall for those words. 

Shiro would not _fall_. 

If he kept telling himself that, he would feel more confident in its sentiment.

“Now do you…?”  He decided to bring the conversation back to the task at hand.  Keith chuckled under his breath, taking a moment to nurse his wine.

“Feathers, you think just stripping is enough?  Yeah, it’s nice but…I need more than just that to get me going.”  When Shiro’s eyes narrowed and a pout characterized his lips, Keith laughed again.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll get what you want.  Just gotta work for it.” 

When Shiro’s expression did not change, Keith smirked wickedly.  A sense of dread blanketed Shiro almost instantly.  Keith swirled his glass, watching the wine inside circle around slowly.

"You _do_ want me to fuck you, don’t you?”  Shiro bit the inside of his cheek, the image materializing in his mind.  Keith continued: “You want me to hold you down on that bed and shove my cock inside you.  You think you’re too stubborn to beg but you secretly want me to reduce you to a mess, pleading for me to go faster and _harder_.  Want me to tell you that your place is _here_ , impaled on my dick.  You want to feel my come in you again; tell me, did you let it slowly leak out of you last time?  Did you miss the feeling when it finally all dripped out?”

Shiro’s arms had fallen to his sides, and he found himself gripping his thighs tighter and tighter, his short nails digging into the vessel’s skin.  But it was not out of anger – everything Keith had said he had pictured, and his cock was aching and leaky and wet.  He shifted on his feet, but that did nothing to alleviate the neediness that had built to levels that were practically unbearable. 

“Keith, why are-”

“Touch yourself.”

Shiro’s eyes grew wide and he stood there, a bit dumbfounded from the sudden order.  His eyes moved from Keith to his reflection, settling on his arousal.  So, that’s what Keith wanted…

He bit down on his lower lip, releasing his thighs and hesitantly moving his right hand over.  When he thought about it and switched to his left – the idea of touching his vessel so lewdly with his angelic hand seemed wrong – Keith stopped him and told him to use his right.

“I want _you_ to feel this through your _own_ fingers,” Keith explained.  Despite the immediate thought of sin and sullying himself, Shiro’s need drowned that out, and he allowed his white fingers to brush gently over the head of his cock.  Even just that slight touch was enough to get him to sharply inhale a breath through his teeth.  But it still wasn’t enough, so he moved his fingers down slowly, and then up again.  They became slightly wet from the precum spilling, and Shiro’s mouth fell open just a little.  Thoughts of ‘ _stop this, this isn’t right_ ’ began to fade as pleasure slowly built, until his earlier objections were lost completely.

Keith watched Shiro’s face more than his hand, which seemed to make the sensations more intense.  It was as if Keith’s attention had some power to make Shiro’s nerves react even stronger than they already were.  Before Shiro realized what he had been doing, he had grasped his erection and was moving his hand up and down. 

His legs felt weaker and so he sat down on the bed; it was reflexive how he spread out, and he vaguely thought about what he must look like.  As soon as that crossed his mind, his eyes found their way back to his reflection – his face and shoulders were red and there was a haziness that seemed to envelop his features.  In Shiro’s eyes, he looked…awkward. 

“Why don’t you bend your knees and put your feet up?  I’ll be able to see better _and_ I think you’ll like it more,” Keith said, and Shiro knew that although it was phrased as a suggestion, Keith was _telling_ him what to do.  The idea of not doing anything Keith wanted right now was not on the table, and so he brought both of his feet up so that his legs were bent and spread, causing him to lean back slightly. 

When he glanced at himself in the mirror again, he understood why Keith told him to take this position – _everything_ was on display now.  He appeared so provocative and in the back of his mind, he knew he ought to feel ashamed.  But he couldn’t right now – not when Keith was watching so closely and not when his hand kept moving and sending those wonderful jolts of electricity through his body. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t _enough_.  Shiro wanted more, but Keith had not said anything yet.  He thought about when Keith was inside him, how he had pushed against something that had him in such ecstasy that his grace had reacted on its own accord.  _That_ was what he wanted.  What he _needed_. 

He adjusted slightly and stopped his movements.  Keith’s expression became one of confused disappointment, until Shiro moved his hand.  His fingers – still a bit wet – traveled down; as soon as Shiro prodded at his hole with his index finger, Keith’s eyes became wide and he uncrossed his legs to lean forward.  And when Shiro pushed that finger inside, he saw the wine glass Keith had been holding drop to the floor.

Shiro let loose a soft moan; that fullness he wanted came to him, but he seemed unable to really recreate the sensations Keith had been able to give to him.  As he pushed deeper, he found his desperation growing again.  What had Keith _done_ , exactly?  Shiro tried to replicate that – ignoring the bizarre feeling of muscles all around his fingers, he inserted a second, and began to curl and spread and pump them.  But he still was unsuccessful – his movements were clumsy and inexperienced and his desperation soon transformed into _frustration_.  He grit his teeth and growled; his body shaking slightly even though he had not been able to find that spot yet.

“Keith… _please_ -”

He had no pride left as a pathetic _whine_ left his lips.  Apparently that was what it took, since Keith had already unzipped his pants and was stroking his own hard erection.  To Shiro’s dismay, however, Keith did not stand. 

“Come here Feathers,” he said, his voice low and husky.  Although Shiro was confused, he removed his fingers and stood, moving over to Keith faster than he would have been happy with in his normal state of mind.  “On your knees.”  Shiro obeyed, kneeling in front of Keith.  “I think you could guess what I want next from you.”

Shiro was about to protest – Keith was _hard_ now, and he had said that he would give Shiro what he needed, didn’t he?  But as soon as he opened his mouth, Keith’s hand was on the back of his head and pulling him in, so that his lips touched Keith’s cock.  Oh… _oh_.  Shiro’s eyes widened and he looked up to see Keith smiling down at him.

Unsure, Shiro kissed the tip, taking note of how Keith groaned appreciatively.  The sound was nice, and Shiro wanted to hear more like it.  He used his tongue to taste Keith – feeling around experimentally, listening to Keith softly whisper praises as if to encourage his exploration. 

It wasn’t long before Shiro parted his lips to take Keith into his mouth; the taste of his skin and fluid were suddenly overpowering, hitting Shiro’s senses so intensely that he almost recoiled.  But after a moment the taste settled, and it became bearable – a salty and almost bittersweet zest that Shiro had not experienced before.  Normally, the taste of anything was too much, as if every individual molecule refused to blend together and instead produced a congress of combative flavors which attacked him relentlessly.  But now…it was not as terrible, and hearing Keith’s moans was more than worth the minor distastefulness.

Shiro moved his head so he would take more into his mouth and throat, but he misjudged something, since Keith suddenly hissed and grabbed onto his hair to stop him from moving any further.  Shiro looked up, puzzled and borderline apologetic – what had he done…?

“Watch your teeth, Angel,” Keith said, though his tone did not indicate that he was angry.  Shiro almost nodded but thought that doing so might be wrong technique-wise, and so instead opened his mouth a bit wider in the hopes that his teeth would not graze Keith’s skin when he pressed on.  “Better,” was Keith’s response and Shiro’s cock twitched as soon as the word graced his ears.

Shiro moved his mouth so he took all of Keith in, and was surprised at the moan that rose from his own throat.  How could he be so aroused right now, just moving his head up and down?  Keith’s sounds were titillating, yes, but the actual _act_ was exciting for some reason.  Every time Shiro’s mouth filled, he felt that desperate need again, and was tempted to touch himself to at least help with some of this pleasurable agony.

For as much attention as Shiro was giving, he was not going very fast.  Truthfully, he hadn’t been thinking about speed so much, though perhaps he should have been; Keith suddenly growled and held tight onto the back of Shiro’s head to keep him in place as he stood.  Shiro looked up and met Keith’s eyes.  There was something unreadable in them…and then Shiro felt Keith move his hips.  An objection was on the tip of his tongue when he thought Keith was pulling out, but then Keith thrust forward hard and fast.  If he were human, Shiro would have certainly gagged, and the sudden rough treatment was unexpected.  But Shiro’s eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack – why was this so _good_? 

“Man, Shiro…part of me wishes you had to breathe,” Keith said, his voice slightly raspy from exertion and arousal.  “I’d _kill_ to feel you choke on my dick.”  The image should have been mortifying, and in the back of his mind, Shiro knew that.  But for some reason, he found himself silently agreeing, wondering what such a sensation would feel like.  “Then again,” Keith continued, having established a steady pace as he fucked Shiro’s mouth.  “You not having to means it’s easier for you to take everything, _and_ I could do this as long as I wanted.”

A few more thrusts and then Keith pulled away, bending down slightly while caressing Shiro’s cheek.  Shiro leaned into Keith’s hand almost instinctively, angling his neck so that Keith could catch his lips in a deep and messy kiss.  As soon as Keith backed off, Shiro whispered his name, a plea etched in his tone of voice.  Keith chuckled, that hint of adoration sparkling in his eyes once again, though Shiro was too far gone to think about its implications right now.  He watched Keith turn the chair around so that it was facing the opposite direction; Keith coaxed him up to his feet and held his hand as he sat back down.  Shiro’s eyes narrowed – now what?  He tried to not watch as Keith pulled out a small bottle from his pocket, squirting the clear and slick lubricant into his hand before coating himself with it.

“Take your seat, Feathers.”

At this point, Shiro figured he should not feel so embarrassed, but for some reason, he felt self-conscious all over again.  He said nothing however, as he moved to straddle Keith…only to feel Keith’s hand on his chest, stopping him. 

“Turn around.”

“But then-”

“I’ll see you just fine.  And more importantly, so will _you_.” 

Shiro almost had forgotten about the mirror until Keith pointed at it; Keith had turned the chair around specifically for this purpose, apparently.  Hesitantly, Shiro turned his body to face his reflection.  As soon as he did, Keith grabbed onto his hips and pulled him into his lap.  Keith nuzzled his back, making Shiro shiver slightly.  He was not looking at himself in the mirror, but instead had his head turned in an attempt to see Keith behind him.  However, Keith was insistent on him facing forward – he reached up to grab Shiro’s chin, jerking his head in the direction he wanted.

“ _Watch_.” 

And Shiro did.  He watched his own face as Keith instructed Shiro to lift up just enough for Keith to adjust and align himself properly.  He watched his mouth slowly fall open when Keith was finally pushing inside, and then watched himself gasp with widened eyes as soon as Keith’s arms wrapped around his waist to pull him down fast and hard – _there_ , finally.  There was that feeling Shiro had wanted so badly, that only Keith could give to him.  The intrusion was rougher than it was last time, but Shiro barely registered the strain the vessel’s muscles were under.  Instead, all of his focus was on the feeling of Keith’s cock completely inside him; if only Keith had taken his pants all the way off too, that way he could enjoy more skin-to-skin contact…  He was trembling, waiting for Keith to do something, but nothing further happened. 

“Are…are you…?”  Shiro’s voice was breathless and hoarse, a confused edge mixing with the neediness in his tone.  To his dismay, Keith chuckled, again planting a trail of soft kisses along his back. 

“Feathers, didn’t I say that since I did all the work last time, it was now _your_ turn?”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed in his confusion, and Keith leaned a bit to the side so that Shiro could see his face through the mirror.  He looked like the cat that ate the canary – another human euphemism that Shiro did not quite understand…cats could never replicate the smug smile Keith was radiating right now. 

“Just do what feels good, Shiro.”

What was that, though?  Why did Keith want so badly for him to just messily experiment – how could he have the self-control that Shiro did not seem to currently possess? 

Despite the questions in his mind, Shiro rolled his hips slightly – or as much as he was able to given their positioning, which he found cumbersome to deal with.  Keith groaned loudly, possibly again trying to encourage Shiro with those wonderful sounds that seemed to travel through him like lightning, sparking up fires under his skin.  Shiro repeated the action, though was finding that this was not _enough_.  It was good but the intensity he felt last time was not there and _that_ was what he wanted so badly. 

“Keith, I…I don’t know what-”  His voice was soft and almost apologetic – this couldn’t possibly be as good for Keith either.  Ever the surprisingly patient lover, Keith put his hands back on Shiro’s hips, his hold gently firm. 

“What did I say before?  You overthink things, Feathers.  You’re lucky I find it adorable.”  Keith’s tone was as gentle as his hold, filled with nothing but admiration once again.  “Lift up.”

Shiro did, feeling Keith’s length sliding out of him and immediately missing it.  However, before he was empty, Keith pulled him back down – Shiro gasped loudly as he was not expecting that motion.  Through the mirror, he had seen his muscles tense and his body flush even more than it already was.  His eyes had widened momentarily but returned to a half-lidded state, his mouth hanging slightly open.  It was a lewd picture that he was starring in, and it was embarrassing and shameful and arousing all at once – knowing that Keith had been able to make such a mess out of him. 

“That’s right, Angel.  Just do that again.” 

It was a weird, jerky movement.  Shiro wasn’t sure how fast or slow he should be going…how high up before back down…plus his vessel’s muscles were straining in an uncomfortable fashion.  Still though, he tried.  He shifted his hips and continued to raise and lower himself on Keith’s cock, getting slightly better at it with each repeated motion.  And despite the urge to turn away, he watched himself – as Keith had wanted him to do.  But although he was moaning and although it did feel _good_ , it still was missing that intensity he so dreadfully desired. 

“You’re concentrating too much,” Keith said through labored breaths that Shiro knew he did not need to even take.  Of course, Keith was _right_ , but how could Shiro not?  He did not know what he was doing and was getting frustrated with himself because of his ineptitude; his improvements were not progressing quickly enough for his liking and his usual high level of patience had long since run its course. 

“I can’t- _please_ Keith,” Shiro whined, his hands digging into his thighs.  Keith sighed, but there was a playfulness still evident in his voice when he spoke again.

“If you want me to do something, you’re going to have to ask.”  Shiro felt one of Keith’s arms snake around his chest, fingers groping.  He did not do much more than that, but just having Keith touch him in such a fashion made Shiro squirm a little.  “And don’t be so polite about it either.  Use that filthy mouth I _know_ you have, Feathers.”

Shiro bit down on his tongue, a tightness settling into his chest.  After thinking for a moment – knowing that he would not get what he wanted unless he complied – he mumbled something.  He turned his head to the side slightly, feeling once again too ashamed to keep looking at himself in the mirror.  Unfortunately, Keith did nothing except lightly pinch a nipple, which caused Shiro to sharply gasp and roll his hips automatically. 

“What was that?  You’re going to have to speak up,” Keith said, so nonchalantly that he almost sounded bored.  Shiro swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Just _fuck me_ Keith, I can’t take this anymore-!”  His voice was loud and he spoke quickly, desperation lacing every syllable that left his lips. 

“Not as filthy as I would have liked, but I _guess_ since you’ve made so much progress…I’ll reward you,” Keith said.  Before Shiro had the chance to even think of a response, Keith surged upwards and out of the chair.  The change made Shiro yelp as he was forced to stand, but he would not remain upright, as Keith had a hand on his upper back, shoving him down so that he was bent at the waist.  Shiro’s hands and forearms found the mirror that he was so close to, and he was grateful to be leaning against it when Keith slammed hard into him. 

 _There_. 

“M-more…”  Shiro’s voice was a quiet whisper, but Keith apparently heard him and thankfully was no longer being difficult about it – he had one of his hands gripping tight on Shiro’s hip as he established a steady and firm pace, sliding in and out of Shiro with such eagerness that Shiro wondered if Keith had been wanting this from the beginning as well. 

Shiro felt Keith hit that spot that he was trying to stimulate before, and felt a pooling deep within him – that same lovely agonizing pleasure that was begging for release.  He dropped his head – which had felt so heavy all of a sudden – so that his eyes were on the floor, but Keith used his free hand to grab a tight fistful of Shiro’s hair and yank him back up.  Why such roughness was exciting, Shiro did not know, but he couldn’t deny to himself how the sensation made his entire body respond eagerly. 

“Don’t you dare take your eyes off yourself,” Keith snarled.  His voice again went straight to Shiro’s cock, causing him to whimper softly as he tried to keep his gaze from rolling back.  “I want you to see how _I_ make you look…what _I_ get you to feel.”  Keith’s voice was a bit darker now, and Shiro felt his grips become tighter and his thrusts more powerful.  A human would have ached under them, but Shiro just cried out, savoring everything Keith had to offer. 

“I won’t have you forgetting me, Shiro.  You’re _mine_.” 

In his calmer state of mind, Shiro would have wondered why Keith would think he would forget him, forget _this_.  And he also would have objected to the idea of Keith owning him – didn’t Keith say something similar last time?  Was this fierce possessiveness a demonic thing or just a Keith thing? 

“And this,” Keith said, releasing his hold on Shiro’s hip to slap his ass, sending a wave of wonderful chills through Shiro, “is only for _me_ , got it?”  When Shiro did not answer, too busy moaning and trying to keep his eyes on the mirror, Keith slapped again.  “ _Got it_?”

“Y-Yes-!”  What on earth was he saying?  Was this now part of their deal?  Shiro couldn’t think clearly.  All he could focus on was the intensity of Keith’s motions, the sound that cracked through the room whenever his hips met Shiro’s bare skin, and how Shiro was quickly headed towards that ledge that had been so _wonderful_ to jump off.

“Say it.”

“I’m _yours_ , Keith-”

Shiro heard a downright _feral_ growl come from Keith; as his thrusts became more erratic, he pulled Shiro up by his hair, so that Shiro’s back pressed against Keith’s chest.  The change resulted in Shiro gasping out Keith’s name while he began to stroke himself as he had before, eager and wanting.  His other hand remained settled on the mirror to balance himself.  Keith released his hold on Shiro’s hair so that he could wrap his arm around to clutch onto Shiro’s neck, keeping him in place.  His grip was tight and Shiro could feel the restriction of his vessel’s airway under the pressure.  Shiro felt his hips push back to meet Keith’s as his back arched even more than it already had been, desperately trying to take more of him in as though that were even possible. 

“Fuck, Shiro-”

Keith’s voice was low and hoarse, a moan accompanying it as he sped up.  Shiro watched through the mirror; he watched how his body jerked forward slightly every time Keith thrust into him, how it was visibly trembling, and how his hand seemed to move of its own accord to try and match Keith’s movements.  From this angle he could not really see Keith’s face all too well, but he could see his arms – fingers that dug into Shiro’s skin at his hip and neck, clutching so tightly it was as if Keith was afraid that letting up meant Shiro would somehow disappear. 

And then Shiro saw Keith lunge forward…saw him bare his teeth and sink them into the flesh between his neck and shoulder, and soon saw blood slowly flow from Keith’s mouth which was still covering the wound.  Shiro noticed that his own eyes had begun to glow at that very moment, signaling how close he was.  He felt his grace surging through his body as he lost more control, feeling it beneath his skin like hot white flame begging to be channeled into _something._    Keith released the hold on Shiro’s hip for just a second – enough time to snap his fingers and have the lights in the room all shut off, so that the only source of brightness was Shiro and the soft glow from the city and stars beyond the window.

Keith moved his mouth to mark Shiro’s neck in a second spot, and then a third…and Shiro cried out every time.  The tears that were threatening to form were not from pain, but from how overwhelming everything was – he did not bother to repair the wounds, too focused on everything else that was happening.  Besides, Shiro remembered Keith doing this their last time as well, and figured that Keith would not like for his claims to disappear right away.

Shiro heard his name, and felt Keith drive into him hard, holding there and practically going stiff.  He felt the warmth of Keith’s release filling him, and that was enough to push him over that glorious edge.  Shiro noticed how his eyes widened and he also became practically motionless; an Enochian plea fell from his lips even though he was not sure what he was pleading for.  The light became searing and filled the room as the orgasm hit him, enveloping Shiro and Keith and everything else in a blanket of white.  While Shiro found it comforting and welcoming, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that it did not hurt Keith too much.  It was not enough grace or power to smite, but it certainly could not be painless…

When the light dimmed, Shiro saw that he had stained the mirror, but he was too exhausted to care about it.  He felt his muscles go almost limp, and he sank back into Keith’s hold, his eyes unfocused and his mind blank with nothing but the residual feelings of his release and the physical sensation of Keith’s still inside him. 

“I wish I could see your wings,” Keith whispered, planting soft kisses along the bite marks that still marred Shiro’s skin.  “Twice now I saw their shadows when you came…it’s unfair I don’t get to see the real things here.”  Shiro could not think of a response; it would be nice for his wings to be visible, and he wondered how Keith would react to them.  Sure, he had one of Shiro’s feather, but that alone did not really do their splendor much justice.

With a final kiss, Keith pulled out and Shiro whined.  Was it a protest or just a reaction?  He wasn’t sure anymore…he couldn’t really think clearly. 

“You know, I was thinking,” Keith said, his arms loosely hanging around Shiro’s waist now.  There was something in his voice that Shiro could not pinpoint – it was as if Keith was…unsure about whatever it was he was about to say.  But that couldn’t be right; Keith was always sure of himself…Shiro figured his post-coital mind was playing tricks on him.  Still though, he turned his head slightly to acknowledge that he was listening, and Keith continued.  “Our contract said, you know, we had to spend a _night_ together…but last time was more like an _hour_.  Not really a full night, come to think of it.”

There was a silence; was Keith _telling_ him or _asking_ him?  It was hard to differentiate, and Shiro was not sure how he should respond.  He knew he ought to leave and tell Keith that it was too late to throw addendums around like this, but…leaving just meant back to war and death and loneliness.  Keith’s hold was dangerously comforting and…nice.  Shiro did not _want_ to leave it just yet, as terrifying as that thought was at its core. 

“A night technically is dusk until dawn, right?  So-”

“Fine.”

Apparently, Keith had not been expecting Shiro to interrupt him, since Shiro heard a confused and startled noise.  Maybe he was anticipating Shiro to put up some sort of fight that did not come.  Shiro noticed that Keith’s arms tightened around him, and he felt Keith press against his back.  They stood like that, and Shiro wondered what Keith was up to, as he so often did.  But he did not have it in him to ask or argue right now.  He was…content.

“Come here,” Keith said after a few more long seconds.  He pulled away but grabbed onto Shiro’s hand, urging him towards the bed.  Shiro followed, staring wide-eyed at it for a moment, his face reddening.

“Again?  Already…?”  His voice held a tone of disbelief; sure he and Keith were powerful supernatural beings, but this was all so new to him and he did need _some_ sort of rest even to just get his thoughts back in order.  Keith laughed softly, shaking his head.

“Maybe later, but right now…I figured it’d be more comfortable to lay on this than stand around.  Don’t you agree?”

Shiro blinked a few times, but then…smiled.  A genuine _real_ smile that he almost had forgotten he could even do, given all that had been happening lately.  “I guess you have a point,” he said, with a slightly amused edge.

Was he imagining things, or did Keith turn away very quickly?  Were his ears pink?  That was unexpected…

Keith let go and pulled his pants off before jumping into bed, worming under the covers.  When Shiro was about to ask why he decided to get fully undressed (especially since he hadn’t even taken them off _before_ ), Keith told him it would be “cozier” that way.  Keith patted the spot next to him, and Shiro found himself climbing in next to Keith, who had turned his body towards him while leaning his head on his arm. 

“I know you don’t _need_ to eat, but how about we get some room service?  Maybe even some more wine since you made me spill so much of it before.”  Shiro recalled that moment and stared up at the ceiling…seeing his blushing face staring back at him.  Oh, right…there were mirrors up there too; he had forgotten about them. 

“If you want…  I won’t have anything.”  At his answer, Keith pouted, so Shiro quickly explained.  “Anything I consume is too…overbearing.  It’s hard to describe.”

“You seemed to like tasting _me_ , though,” Keith responded with an arrogant smirk.  Shiro coughed and shifted his gaze again. 

“That was…it wasn’t the same,” he said, slowly and unsure.  It _was_ different, but Shiro couldn’t entirely understand why it had been so much more tolerable.  When his eyes glanced over at Keith and saw him sporting a smug grin, Shiro’s eyes narrowed, though his blush made it impossible for him to seem truly angry.  “Why do you like making me feel so uncomfortable all the time?”

“Because you’re cute.”  The answer was quick and said as if it was _so_ obvious.  “Sometimes so much that I forget you’re an archangel, you know?  With the ability to smite me in a second if you really wanted to.”  Keith made a humming noise.  “I wonder why that is…”

Shiro turned his head; it was awkward trying to tilt it while he was laying on a pillow, but he managed.  “Why what is?”

“Why you never decided to kill me.  I mean, you’ve had plenty of opportunities.  It isn’t like I started out all special to you or anything.  Not even worth remembering, when it comes down to it.”  Shiro noticed Keith’s expression turn sad and for some reason, it hurt to look at.  Hadn’t Keith said something before as well about the fear of Shiro forgetting him…? 

“I…don’t know why,” Shiro replied.  He suddenly grimaced, feeling a sharp dreadful pang in his head.  It left quickly.  “You’re different.”

Keith did not seem comforted; in fact, he seemed _more_ downtrodden if anything.  Shiro wasn’t sure what else he could say – had his response been upsetting somehow? 

“Last time,” he said after a minute or so of silence.  “You asked me why I wanted control over heaven.”  Keith perked up, though Shiro found it easier to stare up into his reflection than look at him.  “The truth is…I don’t, really.  I just want it to be _over_.”  He sat up, bending one of his knees so he could drape his arm across it.  “There’s been too many deaths…brothers and sisters killing each other…it’s too much.”

Keith shifted so that he too was sitting, and Shiro glanced over at him; Keith was intently watching and listening, so Shiro continued.  “You know how us archangels can be,” he said, with a self-depreciating smile.  “We’re _terrifying_ and _absolute_.  Betrayal and disobedience are not things taken lightly.”  He closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.  “They will keep up this war until no one is left.  And…if one of the others wins, I’m afraid of what will happen.”

“To you?”

Shiro shook his head.  “To everyone who put their faith in me.  I need to protect them.”  The image he painted was etched in his mind: thousands of scorched wings lining the floors of heaven and earth, angels hunted for the crime of siding with one of the losers, the return of rigidity under the new whims of the victor…after having a taste of free will, would angels be able to give it up again?  Or would they fall, one by one, until their paradisal home was a shadow?  The thought shook Shiro to his very core.  “That’s why I have to do this.” 

Despite his dreadful fear of falling, Shiro knew that it was his responsibility to protect his angelic brothers and sisters.  That was why…

“That’s why you came to me.”  Keith’s voice was pensive, like he was thinking about something, and Shiro turned his head to look at him.  “No one would probably suspect you of dealing with a demon, right?”  When Shiro said nothing, a darkness suddenly came over Keith’s face, mixing anger with what looked like sadness.  “Why would you otherwise?”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed as he watched Keith lean over to the bedside table to grab the carton of cigarettes he had left there.  He took one out and put it to his lips, igniting it instantly without the use of a lighter.  Keith inhaled deeply, and when he blew the smoke out, his eyes were fixed on it dancing into the air until is disappeared.  “You’re kind of a hypocrite, Shiro.”

“Excuse me?”

Keith did not turn to look at him again.  “You want to save all these angelic lives, blah blah blah…but in doing so you’re willing to sacrifice one-hundred _thousand_ human souls?”

Shiro stared at Keith, wide-eyed and unable to form a response.  He was not expecting this…righteousness.  Not from Keith.  Not from _any_ demon, really.  “That’s…it’s not…”

“It’s not the same?  Is that what you’re going to say?”  Keith’s voice was cold, but there was a fury behind it that Shiro did not understand.  Where had this come from suddenly?  “Tell me, how many souls _is_ a precious angel’s life worth?  If I had asked for one million instead, would you still have agreed to our deal?”

Shiro felt himself tense up.  “You don’t understand-”

Keith turned to blow smoke in Shiro’s face.  “You’re right, I don’t.  Tell me, how were you going to collect them?  Have you even thought about it?  Were you going to take them straight from heaven?”

“No.”  The souls that were in heaven deserved their paradise.  Even for the sake of the war, Shiro could not do that.

“Then _how_?”

“…There are plenty of humans on earth who would go to hell at their death.  Those would be the ones I would collect.”  It was not a perfect plan, and it would require a tight and trustworthy alliance with at least a few reapers, but it felt better than luring souls out of their individual heavens to send them into the hands of a demon. 

Keith let out a sharp, joyless laugh.  He flicked his cigarette, the ashes falling onto the carpet.  “So only the _unworthy_ souls, then.”  Keith’s eyes closed, and when they opened again, they appeared human.  Blue…or was that purple?  Shiro had almost forgotten that he could do that and recoiled slightly from the change – Keith _never_ changed his eyes.  “Nice to know that right now, you would have snatched _my_ human soul to use as currency if I were still alive.”

The sharp pain hit Shiro’s mind again, and he ignored it.  “Why do you care?  You’re the one who asked for them!”

“…I don’t,” Keith replied, obviously lying.  Another drag from his cigarette.  “I’m just disappointed.  You’re supposed to be different, but you sound just like the other archangels now.  And we both know they’re giant assholes.”

Shiro groaned, partially out of anger due to the unwanted comparison and partially because that pain in his head did not leave as it had earlier.  Instead, it intensified.  “I would only take those who were condemned to hell.  The ones who exercised their free will in ways that hurt others-”

“There you go again, parroting that douchey archangel rhetoric,” Keith interrupted.  “I don’t know why you’re saying this, but I know it’s not you.  Has this war really changed you that much?”  Keith’s voice became softer when he asked the question, and his eyes – still humanlike in appearance – reflected a turmoil that Shiro had never seen before from him. 

“…How would you know what I really think, Keith?”  Shiro sounded defeated.  Deep down, Shiro knew Keith was _right_ – Shiro knew that he did not believe the things he was saying.  He always tried to see goodness in all humans.  Unfortunately, thinking about going against the traditional rhetoric just made everything feel worse for some reason.  He was not meant to think differently.     

Keith ignored the question.  One last drag from his cigarette, and then he put it out on the wood of the adjacent table.  When he turned to Shiro again, his expression was serious, and his gaze intense. 

“Can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me that you honestly believe that _all_ humans who ended up in hell _deserve_ to be there?  That they deserve to be tortured so terribly that they eventually become demons?”  As if to emphasize his point, Keith blinked his eyes back into their demonic form.

Shiro couldn’t answer – the pain in his head immediately became downright _unbearable_ as soon as the questions left Keith’s mouth.  “Keith, stop-”

“No, Shiro, tell me why-”

“Please, _stop_!”  All Shiro could register was agony – he clutched at his head with both hands, trying and failing to will it away.  Flashes of a few scenes entered his mind – searing images that were torturous to look at.  Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Keith’s voice calling out his name, concern having replaced all his previous anger.  But it was muffled, as though Keith was leagues away from him, rather than right by his side. 

An image of hell.  Of a soul he had tried to reach.  Tried to _save_.  But he failed.  He was caught.  He was punished.

“I didn’t…I can’t…”

Shiro shook his head, bringing his knees up to curl himself tighter into a ball, hoping that the compression would somehow make the pain just _stop_.  He began to plead in Enochian, forgetting for a moment that Keith was even in the room with him.  The pain became so excruciating that one of the windows cracked and the wine glasses on the floor and table shattered. 

The visions were hot – burning his eyes and mind; he knew what these were.  They were _memories_.  Memories he was not supposed to remember.  Memories that had been twisted and buried against his will.  Memories that were supposed to have been extracted, but they were too powerful for even his most fearsome brethren to remove completely. 

They were fragments, and Shiro could not piece them all together.  Trying to do so felt the same or worse as cutting himself over and over with his own holy weapon. 

“Shiro!”

Keith’s hands were clutching his shoulders, and when Shiro finally found the strength to look up at him, he saw a face etched with worry.  His vessel had apparently begun to leak tears, as Shiro felt wet streaks on his cheeks.  One of Keith’s hands lifted to Shiro’s face, fingers carefully wiping; Shiro found it oddly comforting, even as his head was still spinning and he was still dealing with flashbacks he knew he was not supposed to be having.

“I’m sorry…”

Shiro’s voice was soft and distant.  His vision began to darken at the edges, and Keith’s form slowly disappeared.  In his place, a soul.  A soul Shiro was never supposed to remember.  The human whom Shiro wanted to save.  The soul of one who had been condemned to hell but who did not deserve such punishment. 

The one Shiro had broken rank for.

The one Shiro almost reached.

The one Shiro was tortured for and was forced to forget.

Who was it…? 

He reached out, not realizing that it was Keith’s face he ended up touching.  He felt himself slipping away, exhaustion quickly seeping into his essence and replacing the pain that had been there.

“I’m sorry I failed you…”

Those were the only words he could say before he fell unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given how this ended, there will probably be another part, though I can't promise it will be up soon due to my schedule. Thanks for reading! This chapter is dedicated to @ribbitsplace on twit; thanks for all your encouragement and lovely art! <3
> 
> More SPN lore:  
> \- Angels can be ‘reprogrammed,’ often through torturous means. They can have their memories removed or altered and can sometimes be under the control of others. This is usually a form of punishment for continued disobedience and an attempt to bring the angel back in line with the status quo.  
> \- When angels are tortured/feel extreme agony, they cause disturbances in the surrounding areas.  
> \- Reapers are servants of Death whose purpose is to take human souls to their places in the afterlife.  
> \- Humans in heaven are assigned individual personalized heavens that they share only with their soulmates.  
> \- Angels can taste the molecules of foods (Castiel specifically mentions this), making eating disgusting for some of them.  
> \- Demons are able to flicker their eyes from demonic to human at will.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this grew an actual plot, I will be introducing other characters into the story and will be shifting between scenes within parts rather than sticking to one scene per chapter. I'll update tags accordingly! As always, spn lore used in this part are in the endnotes!

Human beings were truly fascinating creatures. 

All at once, they were both powerful and helpless, pure and sinful, ignorant and perceptive, lovely and monstrous…their existence was nothing more than a mashup of paradoxes which made them difficult to understand.  The freedom to make choices based on their own wills…why was it that they were allowed such a thing, but the other so-called children of God were boxed into such strict roles that they would be banished and ostracized for stepping out of them? 

Kuron did not hate humanity for their free will.  He just envied them. 

What he hated was how he had been tossed from his home – wings burnt so terribly in his fall that his once beautiful white feathers now fell into heaps of ash, leaving only bare and brittle bones in their wake – for exercising the same type of freedom.  How his brothers and sisters felt he was dangerous enough to strip him of his family just because he did not conform to all of the conventional rules of heaven.  And the _hypocrisy_ of it all – so many of those angels had committed far greater transgressions, and yet they remained in good standing.  Sometimes _revered_. 

Only one of his angelic brethren stood up for him.  But his objections fell on deaf ears, and he did nothing more than just watch in the end.  It hurt, seeing Shiro’s face right before Kuron was so cruelled dispelled, but what hurt _more_ was the fact that Shiro did not fight _harder_ for him.  Shiro _should_ have turned his back on heaven to join Kuron in exile, but he chose not to.  How could he choose that, when no one in this universe understood each other better than the two of them?

Shiro had long ago promised that they would never be apart.  So how could he tolerate their forced separation? 

The question continually plagued Kuron as he wandered aimlessly around Earth (and Hell on occasion, when he was feeling up to smiting some demon hoards for the sport of it).  Perhaps Shiro was too distracted right now to realize just how terrible this was for the both of them – Kuron could forgive him for that.  But that meant he would need to remind Shiro of how they _needed_ to be together. 

After all, they were two halves of one whole.  Not complete without the other.

Unfortunately, the window of opportunity was quickly closing – who knew how long heaven’s war was going to continue?  Kuron had dispatched of other nuisances who tried to steal Shiro from him in the past, but this situation was different.  There was no way he could kill his archangel sisters – for starters, he simply did not have that sort of power, being cut off from heaven’s light.  Not to mention all the other complications that would arise even if that _was_ an option. 

Kuron had been racking his brain for so long, trying to concoct a plan that would reunite him with his beloved twin.  There were times where he almost gave in to despair, his frustration resulting in small massacres of some demons and monsters.  Then…well, saying God smiled on him would be a mistake, since Kuron was fully aware of the absence of his Father, but perhaps Lachesis and her sisters took pity on his predicament. 

How else could he describe stumbling upon such a well-hidden secret if not by fate?

From atop a roof, far enough away and magically cloaked well enough to mask his presence, Kuron kept eyes on the young man – his key to reuniting with Shiro.

He was stunning to behold – an otherworldly beauty that humans would attribute solely to extraordinarily lucky genes.  Beautiful with a troubled and broken heart and a fragile mind.  Lonely and wanting to love, but too smart to fall into the arms of such a temptation.  Cautious and intelligent…as he had to be in order to survive the cruelties that the universe had consistently thrown at him.

And his crime?  Existing.

It was a tragedy, really.  In another reality, perhaps Kuron would have helped him.  But he could not afford to take too much pity on the young man, not when he was about to use him as a pawn that he had to be ready and willing to sacrifice in order to capture the king.

He would apologize, but that would be a lie.  Kuron was willing to do _anything_ in order to bring Shiro back to his side where he belonged.

“Kuron.”  He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his sister’s voice behind him.  The sound of her wings when she had landed was bittersweet; Kuron’s did not make that same sound when he tried to use them anymore.  He turned to face her.

“Honerva.”

“I hope you have a good reason for demanding to meet with me.”  She looked annoyed, though…she always sort of looked that way when forced to acknowledge things that were outside of her immediate narrow interests.  She stepped forward so that she brushed past him, standing at his side with her hands behind her back.  Her golden eyes looked out at the horizon, though showed no emotion other than that mild aggravation.

“I want to help you win this war.”  Honerva was not one for small talk or pleasantries, so Kuron decided to just get right to the point.  Besides, he knew that he could not keep her for long – while they were smart about veiling themselves from their brothers and sisters, her prolonged absence might rouse some suspicion and ruin his entire plan. 

She angled her pointed chin in his direction, an eyebrow raised.  There – at least she now looked intrigued, if only amusedly so.  “Oh?”  Her pause had Kuron a bit nervous; Honerva was always the archangel sibling who most intimidated him, because she was the most unnerving of all of them.  He understood Shiro in and out.  Hira was militaristic and brutal and _traditional_ ; her goals were always relatively simple and easy to delineate.  There was nothing mysterious about Hira.  Nothing _unpredictable_. 

Honerva, though…figuring out what went through her mind would be like navigating a maze with neither an entrance nor an exit.  One would go mad from the attempt.

“Why would I want your help, assuming I needed it?”  Her voice was relatively monotone; Kuron hated that.

“I know Shiro better than anyone else.  We are connected.  No one can understand his moves better than I can.”  He paused, thinking she might show some sort of reaction, but received none.  “Besides, he won’t hide himself from _me_.”  Kuron knew that if he asked to see Shiro, his brother would come.  And if he could not, Shiro would not be able hide himself from Kuron with the same effectiveness as he could from the rest of their family.  They were too entangled with each other.

“And, assuming I _allow_ you to help me,” Honerva said, not even stopping to think about what Kuron was offering, “what do _you_ want in return?”

“Shiro.”  When she said nothing, he explained.  “My fall separated us.  I… _we_ cannot have that.”  Kuron felt _empty_ without Shiro.  He was missing a piece of himself, and surely Shiro felt that same loss, even if he was not fully aware of it.  “Instead of killing him or keeping him in chains, I want you to give Shiro over to me.  He can stay with me, exiled from heaven together.”

Honerva’s eyes flickered with some sort of emotion that was difficult for Kuron to place – was she angry?  Annoyed?  Would she laugh at his proposal, finding it absurd? 

“ _How_ would you keep him contained?  Shiro is the original, not the error.”  Kuron bristled, feeling immediate rage when that last word hit his ears, but she either did not notice the change in his aura or just did not care.  “If I agreed to this, you would need to convince me that he would be crippled.  I cannot have him rejuvenating because you were unable to deal with him.  Killing him would be much safer.”

She shook her head, turning around to walk away from Kuron.  He took this as a dismissal, and decided it was time to play his trump card.

“If you don’t agree…I’ll expose Lotor’s existence.”

Honerva stopped.  If Kuron believed his eyes, he would have sworn that she tensed up ever so slightly.  He took this as a good sign. 

“I know he’s yours, Honerva.  Even for an immature Nephilim, he is too powerful to be anyone else’s.  I wonder…how would your supporters feel about you bringing such an _abomination_ into existence?”  He crossed his arms, feigning his confidence with a smirk.  “After abandoning you for Shiro or Hira, they would go after him and even _you_ would not be able to protect him against that hunt.” 

She finally turned back to face him; her expression seemed as impassive as ever, but her _eyes_ …in the moment, Kuron almost regretted this plan.  There was a fierce anger reflected in them that was rare to elicit from Honerva, and he would never deny that she could easily best him in combat.  However, he did not back down.  He would endure her wrath for the chance to have Shiro back.

“He’s clever, your Lotor.  Able to avoid detection for so long even with all the cruelties he had endured and the loneliness he’s suffered.  It’s remarkable he’s survived up until now.  You should be proud.”

Honerva’s gaze moved off Kuron; she seemed to be looking off into the distance, her expression softening when she fixated on something.  Or…someone.  So, despite her usual cold demeanor, it seemed she _did_ have a great amount of affection for her son.  He wondered…had she _helped_ conceal his existence from heaven?

Kuron looked out at the horizon, standing anxiously in silence as he waited for her to speak.

“You know, Kuron…I’m disappointed in you,” Honerva said, her eyes not leaving Lotor’s form.  Kuron turned his head towards her – he had expected a very different reaction, considering the ultimatum he has just issued _and_ her initial anger.  Then again…deep down he knew that he should _never_ expect anything when it came to Honerva.  He realized that by now.   

“Disappointed that I found out your secret?”

“Disappointed that you never learn.  Chess requires two players, and once again I find myself without a partner.”  Kuron’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“What are you-”

“Your threat is empty,” Honerva interrupted.  Her tone indicated that it was an obvious observation, but Kuron tilted his head.  How…did she think he wouldn’t go through with it?  Why?  Out of some sympathy for the tragic plight of the Nephilim and of Lotor’s specific circumstances?

“What makes you say that?”

“Let’s play out the possible scenarios.”  She was speaking to him like he was a naïve fledgling, and it annoyed Kuron to no end.  He hated when she did that, and it happened all too often.  “I reject your proposal.  You expose Lotor and thereby me as well.  Those who supported me will leave, probably flocking to either Hira or Shiro, as you yourself claimed.  If they go to Shiro and help him gain victory, he is lost to you.”

“Not necessarily-”

“Come now, Kuron, you’re not that stupid,” she chastised, and Kuron felt a hot burning in his cheeks from both anger and embarrassment.  “Shiro will be the new leader of heaven, and his first act as such will _not_ be reversing your exile, which was – as I hope you remember – widely supported.  Imagine that he did – letting you back home would cause many to immediately question his judgment and his motivation.  Insurgency would happen as soon as he gave the order.  We both know _Shiro_ is not that foolish.  Is he oftentimes too softhearted for his own good?  Yes.  But not foolish.”

Kuron wanted to argue with her.  He wanted to say that Shiro’s love for him would override all of that but…there was a reason he was trying to help Honerva and not Shiro himself.

She continued.  “If, however, my supporters went to Hira and gave her enough of an advantage to win as a result…what happens to Shiro then?”

Immediately, Kuron knew the answer.  Rather than vocalize it, he just looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Exactly.  Hira is traditional.  Militaristic and brutal.  She will kill him.  You know this, which is why you came to me.  If you even thought about this idea in Hira’s _presence_ , she would slice your throat with her blade faster than you would be able to react.  And she would consider doing so to be a great service to the universe, having dispatched of a sinful fallen angel.”

Honerva was right.  Kuron _hated_ that she was right.

“Ergo, if your goal is to have Shiro back, you will need _me_ to emerge at this war’s victor.  Exposing Lotor’s existence is counter-intuitive to that goal.  So, as I say again: your threat is empty.”

Kuron did not look at her.  He did not want to see the judgmental expression she was no doubt giving him – _how dare you think you could blackmail me_.

“Although,” she said after giving him a moment to process all she had quickly deduced, “just because your threat is empty doesn’t mean I will reject your proposal.”  Kuron’s eyes widened and he whipped his head towards her so fast he would have experienced whiplash if he was human.  “As you said, your connection to Shiro _is_ strong, and I find that useful.  You being a mistake might actually end up being in our best interest.”

Since Kuron was no longer directly connected to heaven, his power had drained somewhat.  He was still stronger than most beings, but the anger he felt at Honerva’s insult did not summon nearly as much righteous light as it once would have.  His black and white hair blew in the wind that had suddenly picked up, while his eyes began to glow.     

Honerva remained unmoved.

“I’m not a _mistake_.  Father does not make mistakes.”  Kuron’s voice was a low growl, and if he had been speaking to anyone else, he would have been intimidating.  Honerva, however, just watched, as if waiting for a child to cease their temper tantrum. 

“You sound as though you honestly believe that,” she said.  “Has your time on Earth really dulled you that much Kuron?”  She sighed, and Kuron could not help but hear the sound as condescending.  “We both know He does and has.  The idea of Father not making mistakes is nothing but a lie that humans like to tell in order to convince themselves that the universe is not as chaotic as it truly is.” 

Kuron was half-tempted to throw his angel blade at her face.  But doing so would no doubt backfire on him, even if by some miracle he _actually_ managed to hit her.

“So, here is _my_ offer to you,” she said, apparently deciding to not address Kuron’s lingering anger.  “In order for you to get your prize, you need to do three things for me.  First, you will help me defeat Shiro.”  She held up her index finger, counting.  “Second, you will find a way to _contain_ him.”

“Contain?”

“Were you planning on keeping him entrapped in a circle of holy fire for the remainder of eternity?”  She asked the question with a tone of patronizing amusement.  Kuron flushed – he had not really thought about what he would do…he just wanted Shiro _back_.

“He’ll be happy to be-”

“ _Stop_ with that nonsense,” she interrupted, frustration slipping into her voice.  “You will find a _realistic_ way to contain him.  If I feel it is not sufficient, you will not be rewarded.”

“…And the third thing?”  Kuron decided to not argue; she unfortunately had the upper hand on him, despite his initial threat.  He almost asked himself how she had turned things around so quickly, but that would imply he was ignorant to her shrewd intellect and perception.

“…Lotor.  You will keep an eye on him.  And protect him, if it comes to that.” 

Kuron tilted his head.  “Why now, all of a sudden?  You have been perfectly fine with leaving him be.”  He was about to add that she was even fine leaving him at the mercy of his father – who went mad after Honerva disappeared, eventually taking his rage out on the child he blamed – but made the smart decision to keep his mouth shut about that.  Her reaction could be potentially fatal, if she became furious enough.

“If you were able to discover him than that means others might not be far behind,” she said.  Once again there was a softness in her eyes – it was such a rare thing to witness that Kuron could have considered it beautiful.  “His power is nascent and must not be snuffed out.  No doubt if Hira or Shiro were to find him, they would try to use him against me, as you have tried.  Or…they would have him hunted.”  Kuron almost protested – Hira no doubt would, since her traditionalist views meant she would see Lotor as a dangerous abomination, but Shiro?  Would war have changed him _that_ much?

“…Fine.  I’ll be your baby monitor.”  Kuron was shocked that Honerva chuckled.

“Very good.  But, Kuron, let me make something very clear…”  She moved closer to Kuron; despite her having a shorter vessel, Kuron still felt like she was towering over him, and he resisted the urge to take a step back.  “ _If_ you fail, and something happens to him-”

“You’ll kill me.”

“No.  I’ll make sure you witness _Shiro’s_ torture and death firsthand.  And then, so you do not try to follow him to The Empty, I will have you chained and imprisoned for the rest of eternity, until all of existence is wiped out.  You will never be reunited with him, even in death.”   

Kuron could tell by the intensity in her gaze that this was no bluff.  He solemnly nodded.

“Good.  I’m glad we understand each other.”  Honerva stepped back.  “Lotor is important.  Not just to me, but to heaven.  To what we need to accomplish.  To our _future_.”

Before Kuron had the time to ask what she meant by that, he heard the flapping of wings, and she vanished.

\----------

_“Shiro…”_

_The voice was a faint echo in his head, spurring him on as he plunged deeper into the depths.  His wings could not move fast enough as he searched, fighting off countless enemies who were drawn towards his light.  As he passed through, he had to ignore the cries of other souls, begging for redemption and wailing as he did not even spare them a glance._

_He was here for one purpose._

_Where…?_

_“Shiro!”_

_There it was again, this time louder.  More terrified.  A sense of panic began to settle in as Shiro cut through demon after demon, looking for the soul whose light could almost match his own angelic grace.  Any exhaustion he may have felt from having to fly and battle through the thick darkness of Hell was nonexistent; the further he went, the more frantic he became._

_Until…there!_

_Shiro changed direction when he finally saw the soul – bright and beautiful and sadly chained.  Hell was not the proper place for such a soul; how did this come to be?  That was a question Shiro could not worry about right now.  He just had to get there…he had to rip off those chains and save-_

_He was so close…_

_Something whipped around his neck, wrapping around several times like a rope.  It was pulled tight, jerking Shiro back violently enough to cause him to momentarily stop.  This was no demonic power…Shiro did not even need to look back to know that he had been caught.  His sisters had come._

_No…no…he was so close-!_

_He fought.  If he could just somehow reach-_

_The sudden pain of both of his wings being torn through was excruciating, and he couldn’t stop himself from screaming.  More ropes wrapped around him, suspending him in place no matter how hard he fought.  He stretched out an arm towards the soul even as he felt his body being pulled away._

_A name left Shiro’s lips in an anguished cry._

Shiro shot up, his surroundings instantly shifting from the darkness of Hell to the dimly lit hotel room he had forgotten he was in.  His eyes were wild as he looked around; part of his mind wondered if this was some sort of trick and he was actually still in the clutches of his archangel sisters.  He knew…he knew of the punishments inflicted on those who were caught disobeying heaven.  And that soul…what had happened?

“Shiro!”  Keith’s voice sounded muffled – like he was far away – and Shiro did not react to it.  His eyes were still frantically scanning the room as if he was expecting an enemy to jump out and ambush them.  Shiro did not notice how Keith moved so he was kneeling directly across from him on the bed, intimately close.  “Shiro…Shiro, look at me.”  It was only when Keith put both of his hands on Shiro’s cheeks – holding his face gently – that Shiro’s eyes began to focus again.  When Keith said his name…it sounded so familiar…

“Keith…I…I was dreaming…” 

No… _dreaming_ was not the right word for it.  Those were not dreams.  They were flashbacks. 

“What happened?”

Shiro looked around again, this time actually taking in his surroundings – his attention focused not on the scattered clothes decorating the floor of the room, but instead on the shattered glasses and the cracked window.  Just seeing them spurred the emergence of a dull throbbing in his head. 

“I…it’s…”  Shiro was stumbling over his own thoughts, unable to discern the truth hidden under those buried and distorted memories.  He would have begun to panic, but his gaze settled on Keith, and for some reason…he found himself grounded.  “It’s nothing…” 

Keith frowned, and Shiro could see the plain look of disappointment on his face.  “That wasn’t _nothing_ , Shiro.  That was…I was worried.”  A blush crept up, tinging Keith’s cheeks with pink.  “I didn’t really know what to do, or if you were okay.”

Shiro smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest that he could not truly understand.  “I’m fine, Keith,” he lied.  He was obviously _not_ fine, but he felt it inappropriate to discuss this right now.  After all, opening up to Keith before had been the cause of his little episode, and he did not want to endure that again.  Besides…he also did not want to burden Keith with his own problems more than he already had.  It was obvious that Keith had been angry with him earlier, and trudging that all up again would just be counterproductive.  He would figure this whole thing out on his own, after he left.  It was something he was used to, frankly.   

“Before you passed out, you said something.”  Was Shiro imagining it, or was there a glint of hope hidden beneath the layer of concern when Keith spoke?  “You said that you were sorry, and you reached out to me.”  Shiro waited for a question that never came, and his body tensed up as he anticipated more agony.  Luckily – for now – it was dull.

“…Did I?”  Shiro feigned a smile when he lied.  Of course he remembered, even if he had no idea what it all meant.  Only it was not Keith he reached for – it was that soul he also saw in his dreams.  “I don’t remember anything before the…pain.”  Shiro felt somewhat remorseful about the lie, but he was hoping Keith would not see through it and demand they discuss what had occurred.

The downtrodden expression Keith responded with was almost heartbreaking. 

“I’m…sorry for worrying you,” Shiro said.  When Keith said nothing in return, Shiro bit his lip.  Nervousness crept in as he leaned forward to gently press his lips to Keith’s; was he doing so to comfort Keith, or just to try and end the conversation?  He wasn’t really sure.

At first, Shiro did not feel Keith react.  Keith was not stupid – he was most likely aware that this was Shiro’s attempt to change the subject (especially considering Shiro actually _initiated_ the kiss), and probably did not appreciate the blatant dismissal.  Maybe he ought to just leave…but would that break their contract in some manner? 

Guilt suddenly tore at his heart – the contract…all those souls that Shiro was willing to sacrifice…was Keith right?  _Had_ this war changed him so much?

The pain hit him again and he groaned, wincing and trying to think of anything else to get it to go away. 

Maybe Keith noticed something in that moment, because Shiro felt a hand on the back of his head, pulling him in closer so that Keith could deepen the kiss.  Thoughts and concerns ebbed away as Shiro focused on their lips, messily moving together in such a way that quickly made Shiro’s skin feel hot.  And when Keith’s tongue was in his mouth, Shiro’s hands found their way around Keith’s body to hold him tight. 

Keith pushed against him so that Shiro slowly fell back, his head softly hitting the pillow as he dragged Keith down with him.  Desire quickly swelled when he felt Keith’s flesh on top of him – they were both still unclothed, and Shiro couldn’t stifle a quiet moan.  He was still painfully aware of how sinful this all was, but he was beyond help at this point.  Keith was intoxicating and maddening, and Shiro was all but his prisoner now.  All he could do would be to ask for forgiveness for the transgressions he had already committed and the ones he would no doubt commit again and again.  It was all so shameful and all so enticing.

Would he fall because of his inability to resist?  The fear was still prodding at the back of Shiro’s mind, but the feeling of Keith in his arms oddly eased that fear for the time being.  It should have intensified it, and yet Shiro felt…calmer.  Why?    

Shiro’s legs parted to allow Keith to settle between them, who responded with a shift of his hips which made Shiro’s eyes roll back.  His fingers danced along Keith’s back as Shiro committed every touch to memory – he could make out a few scars which marred the otherwise smooth skin.  Shiro wondered about those – did they belong to Keith or to the host body itself?  What was the story behind each one?  It was strange how desperately he wanted to know.  He traced them delicately, feeling the heat from Keith’s form warm his in a way that was both comforting and too much to bear.

When Keith moaned in their kiss, Shiro could practically feel it travel through him, reaching every inch of his body and electrifying his neurons.  His hold around Keith tightened as a shiver ran down his spine.  Keith shifted again – more deliberately this time – and Shiro could feel his lips turn upwards into a smirk when Shiro couldn’t stop himself from letting loose a soft whine. 

So of _course_ Keith repeated his action, grinding down so that Shiro had to break their kiss to gasp, his head falling back so that he was looking at the ceiling.  There his reflection was, already looking hazy and reddened.  How Keith had such an impact on him, Shiro would never really know.  Even from the moment he met him…there was something about Keith that was intriguing and alluring. 

Not that he would ever admit that out loud.  It was frustrating; Keith was a demon, and yet for some reason Shiro did not have the heart to smite him even when they first locked eyes.  Even when Keith came up with nicknames and prodded at Shiro to a constant point of aggravation, killing him was always out of the question. 

Odd.

Keith chased Shiro’s lips and captured them with his own, and Shiro felt Keith’s hand grasp tightly onto his jaw to hold him in place.  When he rolled his hips again, Shiro couldn’t escape and so just moaned into Keith’s mouth, high-pitched and desperate.  His legs clung onto Keith’s frame, wanting to wrap him and pull him in even closer as if that was physically possible. 

With a soft bite to Shiro’s lower lip, Keith finally relinquished Shiro’s mouth; Shiro gasped when he was free, though was unable to enjoy any reprieve.  Keith had moved to his neck, trailing his teeth and tongue along his skin lightly – it was torture, and one of Shiro’s hands moved to grasp a tight fistful of Keith’s dark hair.  Keith hissed at first, and then let out an appreciative hum.  He moved his mouth to Shiro’s ear, biting the top of it softly.

“Shiro…”

_Shiro!_

In a flash, everything flooded back with Keith’s whisper of his name, hitting Shiro so hard that it physically hurt.  He heard the echoing cries of condemned souls as his widened eyes began to see visions of Hell.  His wings began to ache as though they were singed and torn through, and for a moment Shiro could not tell where he was.  All the warmth his body had thanks to Keith evaporated and he felt deeply cold…like he had just been suddenly submerged in the frozen waters of lake Cocytus.

Shiro hadn’t realized that he had thrown Keith off him and shot up, sitting rigidly upright as he tried to discern the flashbacks from the present.  As he tried to pick out Keith’s voice from the deafening chorus all screaming for him.  As he tried to focus on Keith’s touch grasping onto his angelic arm, soothing amidst all the pain.       

“Shiro!  Shiro, what’s happening?  Shiro!” 

When Shiro’s gaze fixed on Keith, he again saw that one soul.  It was alarming and abrupt, and Shiro scrambled out of the bed and away from Keith, not stopping until his back hit the nearest wall.  The two stared at each other; Keith was kneeling on the mattress, his face etched with panicked worry.  Shiro’s eyes and body had begun to glow as his grace seemed to run wild within him; he knew Keith would be able to see the shadow of his wings when Shiro hugged himself and hid his vessel behind them, hoping that they could provide even the tiniest bit of comfort.  Although they were only shadows in this form, Shiro could still feel their feathers cloaking him, and he shut his eyes tightly as he mumbled to himself in his native language, begging for release from all of this.  

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Keith had not moved, his hands hovering as though he wanted to reach towards Shiro but knew he was too far away to do so. 

“Shiro, it’s gonna be okay…calm down…”

Keith’s voice was soft and lovely, but Shiro was too apprehensive to fall into its embrace. 

“I…”  There were so many things Shiro could say.  So many things he _should_ say.  Unfortunately, when he opened his mouth, he could not think of them.

“I…I need to go.”

Shiro did not bother looking at Keith for his reaction, instead rushing over to pick up his clothing that still littered the floor. 

“Go…where?”

“Home.  Heaven.”  Shiro quickly pulled on his pants, keeping his back to Keith.  Maybe if he went back to heaven, he could parse out what these visions and voices all meant.  Maybe being away from Keith for a little while would calm them.  “I just…I need to go back.  Right now.”  Being in this room was suffocating – it was like the air itself was pressing down on him, threatening to crush him under its ever-increasing weight. 

He heard Keith shuffling behind him while he put his shirt on.  Shiro did not bother with the buttons, feeling like he was taking too long to even redress, and so he discarded the remainder of his clothes onto the bed.  When he looked back, Keith had put his pants back on as well and was watching him cautiously. 

“Shiro…I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Keith said.  Shiro’s eyes narrowed, his already panicked mind immediately telling him that Keith just wanted to trap him here.  “I think you should just- Shiro, wait!”

Rather than listen to what Keith had to say, Shiro turned around and marched towards the door.  However, when he went to touch it, he felt the push of the Enochian sigil on the nearby wall stopping him in place.  His mind raced and he felt caged, desperate to fly away as he anticipated more visions of Hell and voices begging for salvation. 

“Keith, let me out.”

“No, Shiro just listen-”

“Keith, let me out _now_ ,” Shiro said while squeezing his eyes tightly shut.  His head ached and his vessel was tense and ready to snap.

“ _No_.  I think you should stay here until you calm down.  Let me help you.”  Keith spoke in an authoritative yet soft and concerned tone, though it did nothing to placate Shiro, who whirled around angrily to look at him.  Was he really going to allow a demon – even if that demon _was_ Keith – to keep him locked up? 

“Keith, you can’t _keep me here_.”

“I just don’t want you to do something reckless,” Keith responded.  “You’re freaking out and you have enemies everywhere, you might not be able to-”

“I need to go _home_ , Keith.  Let me _out_.  _Please_.”  Shiro began to glow again as his panic mixed with both anger and desperation.  Was this really Keith’s plan the whole time?  Get him into such a vulnerable state that he could keep him as what…a prized pet?  When Keith did not move, Shiro looked back towards the sigil and held his hand up.  He could get out himself – he just needed to muster up enough energy to crack the wall and therefore break the seal…

“Shiro, stop!”  Keith’s shout indicated that he knew what Shiro’s idea was.  “If you do that you might damage the structure of the building.  There are humans here still!”  Shiro wasn’t sure if what Keith was saying was accurate, but the possibility of harming innocent souls – who were still echoing in his head, crying for him – was enough to stop him.  He looked over at Keith again as the glow dimmed.  Keith smiled warily and took a cautious step in Shiro’s direction.

“Okay, see, let’s just-”

Keith stopped suddenly, though it was not of his own accord.  Shiro had shifted his angelic energy so that he could hold Keith in place.  It was not enough to harm him, but Shiro needed to keep Keith from coming closer as he began to look around the room.

“Shiro, what…what is…Shiro knock it off,” Keith shouted, his voice increasing in volume as he realized what was happening and struggled.  Shiro responded by telepathically pushing Keith back enough so that he fell onto the bed.  As Keith continued to fight his hold, Shiro swiftly moved to the desk – Keith’s jacket and shirt were draped over it messily.  He began rummaging through Keith’s pockets, muttering to himself as he searched for something.

“What are you doing?  Shiro!”

Shiro did not respond.  In fact, he barely heard Keith again as his mind kept unraveling – spinning wild theories and anxiously jumping to a million different conclusions.  If he just got _home_ …being in heaven would help…it had to…he just had to get out of _here_ first…

It didn’t take long for Shiro to find the demon-slaying knife.  A deadly weapon against those from Hell, but to Shiro, it was no more dangerous to him than a cooking utensil.  Perfect. 

When Shiro looked over at Keith, he noticed how Keith’s face had almost gone pale, and his eyes kept shifting from Shiro to the knife in his hand. 

“Shiro…I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know we can fix this,” Keith said.  Did…did Keith think Shiro was going to threaten him or something?  Shiro did not need the knife to do Keith any harm, so why would he think that?  A strange hurt manifested in Shiro’s chest as he looked away, walking briskly towards the mirrored wall as he continued to forcibly hold Keith in place on the bed. 

With hastened movements, Shiro rolled his left sleeve up to his elbow.  He ignored Keith’s continued protests as he took the knife and cut his arm deep enough to hit a vein.  Dark red blood quickly oozed from the wound, flowing over Shiro’s skin and dripping messily onto the carpet.  Shiro held the knife under his arm as he drenched three of his right-hand fingers with blood and began painting a new sigil on the mirror. 

Apparently, it did not take long for Keith to recognize it.

“Stop!  Shiro you don’t need to do this!”

It only took a few more seconds for Shiro to finish drawing the banishing sigil.  He looked back at Keith apologetically and released his hold on him.  Keith twisted out of the bed, practically tripping over himself as he tried to reach Shiro.  But before he could get too close, Shiro had his hand on the sigil, activating it and filling the room with a bright and searing light.

As Shiro felt the magic pull him, he heard Keith shout his name one last time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you for reading and for your patience! I cannot promise that each chapter will have smut or smut-adjacent now that I am delving into more of a plot, but there will be more later on! This will obviously continue because I have no self control, aha. 
> 
> Also, Kuron's personality is partially taken from him after activation, partially from him before activation, and partially from other sources. Since I need to separate him from Shiro, he leans more towards those than towards Shiro's personality.
> 
> SPN Lore:  
> \- Lachesis is one of the three sisters of Fate, all of whom are Dieties  
> \- Nephilim are half human and half angel beings. They are considered abominations by heaven due to the forbidden relation of a human and an angel. They are considered dangerous because legend says that given time to mature, the Nephilim will eventually surpass their angelic parent in power.  
> \- Holy fire comes from burning holy oil, and angels can be trapped inside a circle of it. Angels can still use their powers while inside a circle of holy fire.  
> \- The Empty is the afterlife for angels and demons.  
> \- Like angels, demons need a host body on Earth (unless they are in their original bodies - this is rare but has happened on occasion). Unlike angels who need permission from their vessels, demons are able to freely possess their hosts.  
> \- The demon-slaying knife is an ancient weapon that has the ability to kill demonic creatures. It does no harm to angels other than damaging their vessels.  
> \- An angelic banishing sigil is an Enochian sigil (drawn in fresh blood) that banishes angels to another location on Earth. This weakens the angel greatly for a temporary period of time and radio interference signals their arrival as they land as a meteor. (Normally, all angels in the room would be banished except for the angel who drew it, but there are exceptions to this/it is not always consistent in the show. To me, if the angel who drew it wants to be banished, then it will work on them.)


End file.
